


If I Could Forget You (Would I Want To?)

by Cbyrno521



Series: Believer [1]
Category: Daredevil (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: A drink or twenty, AU of an AU, And like, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Cats, Colleagues to Lovers To Colleagues, DareDad, DareMan, Daredevil - Freeform, Fight Scene, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gay Panic, Happy Ending, I am... But a lonely goblin, I kinda ran out of tags so deal with these crackhead ones for now, I stayed up to write this, Iron Man - Freeform, IronDevil, Irondad, Karen is a national icon I swear, Kissing, Kissing in the Rain, Lawyers, Like, M/M, Matt Murdock Needs a Hug, Matt is dumb sometimes but it’s okay, Matt saves cats, Memory Loss, Mood Swings, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker has all the dad figures, Peter is kinda moody, Rare Pair, Slow Burn, Subtle domestic relationship, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, angst with a bitter sweet ending, crackhead named cats, he's a cat dad and I love him, kind of glorified crack, pls validate me, really slow burn, spiderman - Freeform, those ship names crack me up, unholy drama
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-27
Updated: 2020-01-12
Packaged: 2020-09-28 02:08:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 77,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20418134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cbyrno521/pseuds/Cbyrno521
Summary: Memory loss.A term that Peter begrudgingly became aquatinted with, but never had to experience with someone close to him. Sure, there were times where he saved someone from a particularly traumatic event, and when he visited them in the hospital, they didn’t remember what happened.That was fine. Yeah, it sucked and clouded his mind for the next week or so, but it was never a personal problem.Maybe his luck on that front had finally run its course.Now, along with trying to track the villain who caused this, Peter is left to babysit two heroes (read: father figures) who really cant make up their minds on whether to punch or kiss the other.Cue the confusion, underlying mystery and tension, and painstakingly long angsty attraction.—-Or in other words, local bisexual doesn't realize he's bi and is confused about his feelings for a sexy billionaire who co-parents his adoptive son.





	1. All That’s There (What’s Left of Me?)

**Author's Note:**

> First off, hello! Howdy! Welcome to my new story!
> 
> Second off, this is an AU of my previous fic, I Can’t Take This (All this Meaningless)! Highly suggest reading that one first, unless you want to be lost on some important details from the get go. If you’re winging it and confused about a certain part, just know it’s in the characterization of that story lmao. 
> 
> Third off, thank you to my amazing beta RexAraneo! This story wouldn’t have been as impeccable as it is without your help  
:) 
> 
> I’d also like to thank my friends dip and shiny for helping me through every step of this journey. You guys are amazing and I hope I don’t disappoint :)

Peter would like to say that he’s lead an interesting life. 

‘Interesting’, he knows, is putting it lightly. 

At the humble age of seventeen, he officially became the last member of the Parker bloodline. The last living, breathing, thinking member of his family. 

He’d also been homeless.

He knew what it was like to wonder when he would get to eat, and envied the people who passed him with food and never thought to spare him a glance 

So he knew how it felt to be starved, and almost die, and so on and so forth. 

He lost his pseudo father and was forced to say goodbye to his friends. Let go of his life that he had weaved carefully throughout the past seventeen years of his youth, in hopes of something better. 

And better, his new life was. 

Peter found himself staying in the house of another vigilante; One who he never saw himself meeting up with. He made the house a home, and came to view the man as the voice of reason he needed throughout everything. 

With this man by his side, Peter found himself thriving. He found a job, a home, a group of people he could call his family. 

Peter could smile again. 

And that wasn’t even everything! His mentor, previously known as pseudo father, had come back. Sure, there was still a lot of progress needed to be done in their relationship before he could even be viewed in the same way as before, but the point still withstood: he’s back. 

Plus, Spiderman has been the most loved hero for quite some time now. He’s been dealing with high level Avenger threats with Iron Man, as well as looking out for the little guy by himself and with Daredevil. People have taken notice of his extensive experience, and the support ever since has been insurmountable. 

Now? Not all of that matters in the eyes of villains. 

As much as Peter wishes that were the case, he knows that it wouldn’t be fair or right. 

For example.

Peter woke up with a splitting headache and only one thought on his mind. 

That thought wasn’t much. His eyes hadn’t even opened, after all. But the rhythmic pounding in his brain yanked him away from unconsciousness and demanded attention; attention he wasn’t sure he could give. 

Save Matt and Tony.

He questioned himself for thinking such a thing. The teen tried his best to always watch his two hero ‘fathers.’ Whether it be bringing Matt his cane, or working on a new suit with Tony, he was always with them. Come Hell or high water, he would be by their sides.

So why was that the only thing he could remember?

Peter let out a groan, moving his head so that his forehead was resting on the ground. The mask that covered his face shifted with him, and at least gave him the comfort in knowing this wasn’t a random attack. Something happened on patrol. Something big enough to knock him out.

Patrol.

His eyes snapped open as memories flooded in, letting out a choked gasp at both the bright lights and the sudden remembrance.

Spiderman had been out with Iron Man and Daredevil, a rare meeting for the trio. Usually they worked in pairs, and those pairs always consisted of the spider themed vigilante and one of the other members.

But this time, Matt joined in on the two, requested specifically by Tony.

There had been whispers of a new gang popping up in New York. Never a definite location, just around. They seemed like the big shit; drug and human trafficking, illegal dog fights, rapists, illegal cage fighting, a string of murders that seem suspicously close to the gang. So really, all the works. Tony had been hunting them for weeks, but as soon as he got close enough, it was as if the gang disappeared. 

For someone with an advanced AI with an impeccable tracking system and millions of dollars worth of tech at his disposal, clearly it settled wrong with him.

One day, he was complaining to Peter about it. 

“I just don’t understand,” he said exasperatedly, fiddling with his portable arc reactor. “It’s as if they know I’m coming. It doesn’t matter if I’m in the suit or not, they’re… It’s like they just vanish. It’s insane.” 

Peter, nestled on the couch with a book hanging forgotten in his lap, tilted his head to the side. He hadn’t heard anything drastic about the newcomers, just that sometimes they sniffed a little too closely to Hell’s Kitchen. When that happened, though, Matt always took care of it.

Which is how Peter found himself saying “I’m sure Daredevil could help you.” 

Tony looked across the room at the teen as if he’d grown a second head. “Wh- Me? Asking for help from the resident devil?” He waved his hands in the air, as if swatting a fly. “Preposterous. Insane, that idea!” Tony ended with a scoff, rolling his eyes.

All too familiar with one of the man’s dramatic outbursts, Peter just shrugged and snuggled more into his blanket. “I don’t know, man,” he said off handedly, picking his book back up and trying to find his place that he previously lost, “double D managed to ward them out of Hell’s Kitchen whenever he caught wind of what they were doing.”

…Which is how all three of them ended on the same rooftop, one chilly night in October.

Because Tony refused to believe that someone could track a gang based solely on smell and intimidate them enough to keep away.

Spiderman stayed lanked across the lip of the building, tired and regretting every single one of his life choices that lead to this minute. Tony stood in his armor a few feet away, impatience radiating off of him in waves. 

The teen had texted Matt earlier that day and asked for them to meet up for a job, which Matt shockily replied with an affirmative. He also supplied a time and location, much to Peter’s liking. 

It had been two minutes over the official time, and Tony was making sure every single one of those seconds were accounted for. 

  
“Give a time, the man does,” he mutters under his breath. “Show up late, that man does.” he shook his head, suit plate changing his voice to sound more robotic.

“I wasn’t late, you were too dumb to turn around.”

Tony, for all the experience on the field, only managed to jump and let out a small sound of surprise. In an instant, his arm was up and around, hand repulsor lighting up and getting ready to charge. Daredevil just turned his head to the side in challenge, lips thinning out in a disapproving line.

Peter knew that Matt had been there. He’d gotten used to the telltale signs, afterall.

(He just wanted to watch Tony’s reaction. Payback, he told himself.)

“Oh for the love of--” Tony lowered his arm, looking at the sky as if it was going to open up and eat him whole. A mechanical sigh erupted from the suit as it made the vague notion of a large shrug. “How long were you standing there?”

Truthfully, Matt had only been there for less than five minutes. He just kept by the shadows out of the duo’s peripherals, analyzing the Iron Man armor. Tony’s heartbeat was dull and faint, something that unnerved Matt instantly. The mechanical whirring of the instrument of death was nothing short of fascinating, even if he had a hard time reading movements based on the fluidity of the nanotech. He only let himself be present when he became used to the constant motion of the armor shifting around Tony’s body, something that was as innovative and intriguing as could be.

But, like he said, he was standing behind the piece of armor for a little bit. Tony just never turned around.

It was Peter’s turn to sigh, arching his back to crack it before standing and turning to the two. “Daredevil, meet Iron Man. Tony, meet Daredevil.” He got a small lip quirk from Matt’s side at the protection of his identity, while Tony looked full on scandalized. Pete ignored the look, instead favoring on filling Matt in on what he needed to know.

“Alright man, remember that gang that started sniffing around? The one where you broke your wrist, had a bloody nose, and couldn’t stop the limp you carried for the next three weeks?” Peter asked. Tony turned the look towards Matt, looking him up and down. All that Daredevil did, though, was smile a little more and nod, ignoring the look he was getting (not that he could see it). “Yeah, they haven’t shown their faces since.”

And then his smile dropped, because he realized what they were going to ask of him. He put his hands on his hips and cocked his leg, practically radiating disapproval. Despite the mask being firmly in place, Peter could tell that a singular eyebrow was raised. “You,” he started, in all of his gruff voice’s glory. “Want me,” he pointed to himself. “To feel for all of New York,” Matt moved that finger in front of him before making a circular motion. “To look for a singular gang,” he ended with a hand back on his hip, lips in a thin line once more.

Tony jumped on the opportunity, flamboyancy coating his words. “You got it, Red! Although, I wouldn’t say ‘feel’ for all of New York as much as I would say ‘see.’” 

Peter felt his eye twitch.

Daredevil turned towards Tony finally, moving his head up and down as if assessing the armor. Both him and Spiderman knew it was for show, but it had the desired effect. Tony backed off under the false gaze, sighing. “Alright, whatever. It’s what you wanna call it, sorry dude.” He raised his hands in mock surrender, inching closer to Peter.

Children.

They were all children.

“Look, can you please help? I won’t ask for anything for at least another month or so. That includes showing up at two AM and asking if I can borrow your toaster.” Peter tried to leverage, putting in the best whiny adult voice he could muster. Matt tilted his head, as if he was actually considering the offer.

(Both him and Peter knew that he didn’t need to ask. Anytime Pete wanted to borrow anything, Matt would always say yes.)

Daredevil finally completed the round of sighs that plagued the heroes he accompanied, walking to the side of the building to crouch on the lip, a few feet away from where Peter was swinging his legs from previously. “I don’t know if I can,” he said in a quiet voice. “I’ve never tried to listen throughout all of the streets of New York before.” 

Peter caught the tenseness in his shoulders, saw his rigid spine. It took him a few seconds, but he finally remembered. Matt didn’t like admitting things he couldn’t do, especially to people he didn’t know.

He didn’t know if it stemmed from the Catholic guilt, being raised as an orphan who had to do everything required of him, or if it was just because of his permanent disability and hindered his performance in tasks. Whatever reason it may be, it gave Matt the aversion for accepting faults. 

Tony must have known something was up, because he tapped his arc reactor twice, feeling the suit dematerialize into the small container. Clad in just a running jacket and a pair of black pants, he walked up to where Matt was crouched. Didn’t go to the edge like his partner, but rather stood a few feet away. Kept his distance, let his presence be known but not intrusive.

“You don’t have to do this, you know.” Tony said in a quiet voice. Like Matt was the only one who was supposed to hear, like he was spilling a secret. “There’s plenty of things I can’t do. Bake, fold my laundry the exact same way every single time, make an omelette.” That got a huff of laughter out of Matt, and that brought a smile to Tony’s face.

“You don’t see people pushing me for not being enough. And we won’t do the same to you. If it’s too much, then we can take this slow. Go in sections of New York and see how much you can do, and move on throughout the night. Or, we could do it the old fashioned way and continue looking for them to pop up on the radar.” 

Peter stood back, shocked. 

He watched as Matt slowly calmed down, breaths coming out more even and shoulders lowering. He dipped his head and looked away from the two, like he was hiding his face. Tony raised his hand, hesitated, before deciding ‘fuck it’ and resting it on Matt’s back. “Whatever you choose is fine. Either way, we’re going to hunt those sons of bitches down and we’re going to punish them.”

Matt took a few more breaths, before exhaling a quiet answer. “Okay,” he said, nodding his head as if convincing himself to do it. “Okay, I’ll try.” A large and hopeful smile spread across his face before he coughed to cover up his excitement. “But I won’t make any promises on how well this will work.” He stressed, finally turning to the duo.

Peter… He was slightly terrified about Tony finding out Matt’s identity.

(His brain helpfully supplied that he would have to deal with double the dad jokes, to which he choked.)

(And then he realized that it would actually be horrible, because he wouldn’t be able to escape the jokes. Matt knew Tony and Tony knew Matt, but if Tony knew Matt was Daredevil? Dad jokes all around the clock. And that’s _ terrifying.) _

Tony backed off and stood near Peter, giving Matt space. The two knew to be quiet and not make any distracting noises so that they didn’t break his concentration. 

Every few minutes, Matt would cock his head to the side. Through his gritted teeth, his breaths came out rough and then relaxed. His posture radiated calmness, but the two knew that was only a facade. It had to be horrible to search like the man was doing, especially to the extent that he was. 

Tony felt his opinion on Daredevil rising by the second.

About ten minutes of tense silence later, Matt stood up abruptly. “That way,” he told them, already bounding for the building next to them. Quickly falling out of their shell shocked state, Peter raised a hand and shot a web towards the middle of the buildings, choosing to swing close by. Tony tapped his arc reactor and felt his suit form around him protectively, before taking for the sky to keep watch on both of them.

Matt lead them through Hell’s Kitchen, past the Greenwich Village, and all the way down to Bay Ridge, deep down in Brooklyn. By the time he held out a fist in the universal sign for ‘hold,’ he was panting with overexertion from all of the roof hopping he had done.

Spiderman swung up to the building while Iron Man touched down, each moving closer to the Devil for more information. When he lowered his hand, he pointed to a warehouse a little bit ahead of them. “There.” He said, gravelly voice sounding worse for wear. 

Peter rolled his eyes. “A warehouse.” He threw his hands up in exasperation, sort of regretting coming. “It’s always a warehouse, isn’t it?” He said jokingly, trying to cheer the other two up. Tony looked furious, ready to go in and clobber all of the occupants inside. Matt was vibrating with energy, the Devil inside shaking his chains and demanding to be let loose. 

Yikes, Peter thought. Serious time it is.

Like a veil, Peter’s entire demeanor changed. Where he had a friendly posture, it morphed into guarded. Hostile. The energy he exuded wasn’t happy go lucky anymore, instead, serious. He blended in perfectly with Daredevil’s tone, a clear sign of the amount of time they spent together. Tony wasn’t much different, but he still had a different demeanor. One that was simply his own, but still complimented the other two.

What a trio they were.

“Thirty six people inside, twenty eight of them armed.” Matt informed them, tilting his head before lowering his chin. “They’re speaking in a different language. Banglali?” He paused, giving it a few seconds. “Definitely banglali.”

Tony nodded, flipping his face plate down. “So they’re a Bangladesh gang? Nice to know.” He rolled his shoulders, getting ready to take flight. Matt must’ve sensed the heat rising from the gauntlets, because he held an arm out. “Wait,” he told them, moving closer to the edge of the rooftop. “There’s more people. Underground?” A few seconds later, he nodded. “Prisoners. Seems like they’re all under the age of eighteen.” Matt sniffed the air, before recoiling a tad. “They’re scared. Terrified. One of them is thinking of giving herself up to save the others.”

Suddenly, things felt too personal for Peter. These were people his age, people who were younger than him that had been taken from their homes without a second thought.It was disturbing to know - to even understand - that these same people would end up becoming slaves or torture victims.

He clenched his fists, everything in him telling him to run inside and rescue all of them. 

Tony must’ve been on the same wavelength as him, because he finally spoke up. “Alright, so gameplan. Daredevil, you take the left side. Spiderman, go through the window on the right. I’ll take the middle and make a grand entrance. It’ll distract them from you guys. Peter, don’t engage. Find the way downstairs, and work on rescuing the kids. Daredevil?” Matt turned towards him, a sign of compliance. Tony grinned evilly. “Bring ‘em Holy Hell.”

Matt’s answering smirk could’ve probably killed.

(Really, Peter thought, it probably already did.)

There wasn’t a countdown. No signal, no sudden gush of air. The trio shot out like rockets like they had been doing it for years. Peter jumped off the building and flung on his web, Tony set his repulsors on silent and took the high ground, while Matt did his parkour all the way down the building and into the shadows. 

Somehow, they all ended at their marks at the same time. Static crackled in Peter’s mask, before Tony’s voice filled the silence. “Alright, kid. You ready?” He asked, despite knowing the answer he would get. Spiderman nodded, sticking to the side of the building. They didn’t bother with getting a confirmation from Daredevil; they all knew the answer.

A resounding boom came from where Tony was in the front, followed by his boisterous voice. “What’s up, fuckers?! Didn’t think I’d catch you this time, did you!” Instantly there was scrambling, before gunfire started up. Tony’s laugh filtered throughout the suit, giving it an almost chilled sound. “Oh, this is gonna be so much fun!”

Peter slammed his fist through the glass, the breaking sound being covered by all the commotion inside. With deft fingers, he crawled in and stayed above the ground, getting a birds eye view of all the action. Out of the left, Daredevil came with a dark maniac grin. Just his presence sent more shrill screams than Tony’s entrance.

(They would laugh about that later on.)

Matt swung his billy club, the stick flying through the air and finding its purchase on someone's forehead. From there on, he was dancing around bullets and fists, working his way through the crowd to get by Iron Man.

Peter gave a small nod of approval towards the team, despite them not knowing.

Trying his best to ignore the fighting, he scanned the grounds for anything that vaguely resembled a door or a hatch. Even a slightly different shade of tile would be an indication. 

There was a scream that was louder than the rest, belonging to a man that was currently sailing through the air after getting tossed by Daredevil. He landed on a pile of crates, shattering them upon impact. When he groaned and got up to join his comrades in the fight once more, he revealed that under the rubble was a hidden latch.

Thank God for the Devil, right?

One perfectly shot web later, and Peter was sailing through the air headed straight for the entrance. He propelled his feet forward and straightened his body out, so from the angle he was flying from, the hatch would break upon impact. Or, you know, his legs would.

Thankfully it was the former of the two, and Spiderman’s momentum carried him all the day down the dark hallway that opened. Which would be ideal, but he really needed to see what he was doing. He stuck his hands out from his sides and let his stickiness do the work, wrenching the rest of his body and threatening to pull his shoulders out of place at the sudden change. 

“Karen,” Peter whispered through a quiet hiss of pain, “can I get some light here?” In seconds, the darkness that surrounded him turned a shade of green indicating that the night vision powered on. He brought his hands off of the walls around him, instead rubbing at his sore shoulders.

Above, the fight seemed to be tapering down. 

“Hello?” Peter called out, because fuck it. If there were more bad guys down here, he could take ‘em. If not, then the girls would just call back.

But instead of a verbal answer, he just heard quiet gasps and a little bit of scuttling. 

Girls it was.

Peter continued down the flight of stairs, taking them slowly as to not scare them any more than he had no. “It’s me, your friendly neighborhood Spiderman here to perform a rescue mission!” He could see the bottom of the stairs at that point, a beacon of good in the trying time. “My friends Iron Man and Daredevil are upstairs taking care of the bad guys. They won’t be here to hurt you guys anymore, ya’ hear me?”

More scuffling. Some whispers.

“Here,” he told them, sticking his arms straight out in front of him. “I’ll come down hands first. Okay? No harm. I’m here to help.” 

Ever so slowly, as if confronting a scared deer, Peter stepped off of the last step and into the open for the girls to see him. He moved his eyes around, taking in his peripherals. 

True to Matt’s word, all of the girls looked to be under eighteen. If Peter had to take a rough guess, he’d say there were about thirty six people in total. All of them ranged in various states of injury; some with a few scratches, others with obvious broken bones. All of them had the same look on their face, though. They all looked petrified. Scarred. Harrowed by their experience with the gang. 

Peter was going to be sick. 

But not now, of course. Because judging by the silence upstairs the fight is over, and his partners are calling for reinforcements. They’re relying on him to calm the girls down enough to make it into ambulances, and eventually reunited with their families. 

“Are you here to save us?” A timid voice asks. Spiderman swivels his head to the girl who asked, swallowing his guilt when he was met with the face of an eight year old. _ Bastards _, he thought. 

“Yeah,” he answered in an equally quiet voice. “Yeah, I am.” 

Like his confirmation was a dam, the girls slowly began to get closer, each examining his suit. His aura. His stance. Everything about him was on display, because all they knew for the past-- however long it had been for each of them-- was violence. 

He tried his best to appear as relaxed as possible, letting his arms fall to his side slowly. 

Another girl, probably the leader— and probably the one who was going to give herself up— stepped closer than the rest, bringing her arms up to tell the others to stay behind her. “How do we know this isn’t a trick?” She asked boldly, looking much more aged than she was. “A ploy? To see which one of us is eager enough to get out?” 

_ Yeah, definitely the leader. _ He nodded slowly, answering with “yeah, I guess you have no way of knowing, do you?” The girl tilted her head, moving her hands back and forth slightly so the others took a few more steps back. “What’s your name?” He asked, deciding to go about this as a peacemaker. Which, you know, he was. 

She squinted her forest green eyes at him, eyelashes casting shadows in the already dark room to make her look slightly menacing. “Emma.” Her tone was clipped, only revealing her slight curiosity. 

Peter nodded once more, this time bigger. “Alright Emma, I’m going to shoot a web above me at the ceiling. Alright?” He looked around the room at the others when speaking, so nobody was blindsided. “Then I’m going to climb on it. Maybe do a trick if asked.” He got the desired effect of a few smiles. Nothing big, but progress. 

After getting confirmation from the seventeen year old— _ God, she’s my age _— he raised his arm over his head, never pointing his web shooters at a little one. Then, he curled his pointer and middle finger above the button, hovering. “Are you ready?” He asked quietly, as if he would disrupt the moment by speaking in anything louder than a dull whisper. 

Peter presses the trigger, hearing the telltale thwip! A few girls gasped and another few jolted back, but after a few seconds, they all stared in awe. Peter smiled under the mask, watching as Emma put her arms down. 

He tried to ignore how there seemed to be more of a scuffle upstairs. Backup, if he had to guess. 

After a slight tug and another verbal confirmation over his movements, Peter pulled himself on the web, attaching his feet on it and letting himself drop upside down. 

The little girl from earlier came running up, much to everyone’s surprise. “Bri, no!”

Bri didn’t listen to Emma, instead stopping right in front of Spidey. She had a large smile on her face, the perfect antithesis of the dried blood and dirt that surrounded her too-pale face. “Can I push you?” She asked excitedly. A surprised laugh erupted from Peter’s chest, not expecting that question. “Yeah, go ahead!” He encouraged, smiling brightly. 

Bri brought her little hands to his back, letting out a small woosh of air before gently shoving him. When he rocked slightly, she giggled and gave him a harder push. By then, all of the girls were circling them, a few laughing along. 

All in all, it was kind of a surreal feel. A calm in the storm for the girls. Who knew how long it’d been since they were able to laugh like this— to smile like this. 

After a few more hearty laughs and gentle shoves, Bri stopped and turned to Emma. “Em, we can trust him.” She told her, walking closer. 

Emma sighed before pulling the little one in a small hug. “I know,” she whispered, and Peter finally noticed the tears streaming down her face. He climbed off the web and walked up to her, hoping that she would sense his presence and calm down. 

They made eye contact, and Peter was momentarily stricken by the amount of emotions that clouded her view. She licked her chapped lips and sniffled, before letting go of Bri. “They’ve never asked us our names. When you did, that’s how I knew you were a good guy.”

Something cracked in Spidey’s chest at the same time something warmed up. It was awful, he knew. These girls had to have been through Hell and back, and a simple question about their names is what told them who’s good and who’s bad. 

He hoped that Tony and Matt were giving the men everything that they deserved. 

Speaking of the two, Peter noticed how the sounds from upstairs sounded significantly better than before, but regardless there was still a scuffle. 

Peter nodded his head in thanks towards the teen, turning around towards the stairs. “Okay, here’s the game plan,” he told the room. 

“First and foremost, we need to get up and out of here. If someone thinks they can’t get up these stairs, buddy up. We need to help each other to get this done. Alright?” He turned around and saw a chorus of nods, a few whispers and then a couple of people getting together to help others. He smiled under his mask. 

“Okay, great. Good job, guys. I’m proud of you.” He clapped his hands almost silently, worried the loud sound would startle the girls. “Now, my friends Iron Man and Daredevil are upstairs and they’re taking care of the men that kept you guys. We’re going to try our hardest to ignore them. Iron Man opened the main entrance, so we’ll be escaping that way. For anyone who doesn’t know where that is, follow my lead.” 

Once more, he got a few nods. Peter sighed, watching as some of the girls shook in fear. He got down on one knee and rested his elbows on the raised one, so that he wasn’t looming over everyone anymore.

“Look, I know this is scary. Probably one of the scariest things you guys will ever have to do. But once this is done? It’ll be like a breath of fresh air after being underwater for too long.” He looked up, trying to convey his honesty through his words.

“All of you are _ so _ strong. I wasn’t lying when I said I’m proud of you guys. Not everyone can go through what you guys have and be able to smile because a guy swung on a web.” A few smiles, one of them being Peter’s. “Seriously. We’re staring at the finish line. All that we need to do is go up those stairs, and you all are home free.”

The word ‘home’ brought a fond look on most faces, others calming down by the mention of it alone. By now, they all were in a much more relaxed state than before. Spiderman got up from his position, holding out an arm towards the stairs. “Now, I know I’m good at starting speeches, but I absolutely suck at ending them.” He chuckled awkwardly, glad that the girls responded in kind. “So how about we just go? Who’s ready?”

Emma gave him a nod of approval, before taking the first step towards him. A brown haired girl came after, and just like that, they were all filing into a line. Peter smiled under the mask, taking the lead. 

Going up the stairs, the sounds of commotion were much more prominent. Peter, when he heard whimpers of fear, would always whisper sweet praises about how well they were doing. 

Thankfully, Matt must’ve heard them coming up, because the fight dimmed down quickly. With one last resounding repulsor blast, silence spread. Peter waited a few seconds, before ushering the girls a little faster. 

When they reached the top, Peter was shocked at the amount of men on the ground. It looked like a complete battle conspired while he was downstairs. Daredevil was standing in the middle, fists bloody and chest heaving with the need for oxygen. Iron Man was landing, one of his hands completely blown out. There were a few marks on his suit that weren’t there before, including dents that were suspiciously in the shape of grenades. 

“Well, glad you rascals could make it!” Tony shouted, faceplate shooting up. His face looked flawless as always, minus the sweat trickling down his brow. A few gasps came from behind Peter as the girls finally saw everything. A few shielded the younger ones eyes, while others kept their eyes glued on the two heroes. 

Matt grimaced, taking a tentative step forward before collapsing. “Daredevil!” Peter shouted, abandoning the crew to rush to his side. Tony took his place, ushering the girls closer to the door and away from the chaos. 

Peters hands fiddled around Matt, not knowing what hurt most. Obviously, his leg and side judging how he was holding onto it. Possibly broken ribs? “I’m fine,” Matt grit out. “Just... get the girls out.” 

Tony scoffed from his position, turning to face the two. “Yeah, fine isn’t what I would call getting pummeled by at least twenty guys at once and somehow still managing to come out on top.” He pointed to Peter the next time he spoke. “Seriously, that guys is insane. I’ve never seen someone dish out such a beating while receiving that much. I don’t even think Cap could do that.”

Peter read between the lines. Daredevil was seriously injured, despite what he said. He took on a lot, it’s a miracle he managed to stand afterwards. Help him out.

Spidey nodded, telling Tony he got the message. Satisfied, the elder of the two turned back around to lead the girls out. Matt sat there panting for a few seconds, before grunting and trying his damndest to stand up once more. “Woah, dude! What are you doing?” Pete asked incredulously, hands shooting forward to help Matt. 

He could feel the eye roll that Matt gave him. “Getting up. There’s still a job that needs to be done.” Once standing on his shaky legs, Matt cocked his head. After a few seconds, he grunted. “My hearing is fucked. I can’t decipher anything outside of this room. Too many explosions in such a close proximity.”

Under the mask, Peter winced. Matt practically admitted to him that he was lost and couldn’t see his way out. It probably unnerved the man without fear. 

Peter felt bad as he gripped onto Matt’s arm, guiding him out while keeping up the look that DD just needed help because of his bad leg. 

Tony met them half way in the warehouse, police sirens outside wailing in symphony with ambulances. “The girls are getting checked out, and all of these guys are going to be out of commission for a long time.” He smiled ruefully at the end. “Hey horn head, good work out there. Do you, uh...” he scratched the back of his head, tapping his arc reactor so that his suit dissolved around him. “Do you need some more help?” 

Matt stopped walking, taking a few moments to process Tony’s words. Of course, the billionaire being as insecure as usual, took the silence as judgement. And of course, he needed to fill the silence. “You know, walking? Or just breathing? Seriously, I saw you get flown across the building after one of those grenades. Enhanced or not, that had to have hurt. I have an excellent medical team, you know. Plus, it’ll be a good chance for you and I to catch up. Y’know, not mid battle—“

“Someone’s coming.” Matt cut him off, stiffening and shrugging off Peters helpful arm. 

Tony looked at him like he was crazy. “Excuse me, what? You mean, like one of the police officers outside?” Matt growled at him, tilting his head to try to sort through the cacophony of sounds that blurred together. 

Just then, Peter’s spidey sense lit the fuck up, sending shrill warning reverberating throughout his entire body. “Duck!” He yelled, unsure of what he was even dodging. But before he could move, something zapped him in the chest. 

Whatever hit him hurt like hell. It felt like electric shocks coursing through his veins, frying everything that made him who he is. A harsh scream emitted from Peters voice, but he didn’t even notice it over all the pain. 

He fell to his knees, trying his damndest to pry his eyes open to look at the other two. When he did, he saw that they were in the same position. Tony was already slumped over unconscious from the pain. Matt was still somehow fighting it, ripping the thing from his chest. 

Peter went to do the same, but realized he couldn’t move his hands. Some type of paralysis, doubled with absolutely insane amounts of pain. 

His vision blurred as he watched Matt crawl over to him, taking whatever it was and ripping it out. Peter gasped as if it was his first breath, body singing with the reprieve. 

However, his spidey sense lit up once more, alerting him that whatever it was wasn’t done. 

The two pen looking items blew up in Matt’s hand, flinging him away from Peter and handing on top of Tony. 

He didn’t get back up. 

Peter wheezed as he tried to move, but felt the stabbing pain once more. Saw as his vision clouded into near nothingness, only a figure walking towards them illuminated against the darkness. Then, the electric shocks that ran through his body, into his soul.

And then, nothing.

Except for now, since he was up with the equivalent of a nasty fucking hangover. Or at least what he assumed a hangover would feel like. He didn’t know; his metabolism was too fast for him to ever get anything more than a slight buzz. 

His spidey sense rang in a constant pattern in the back of his skull, adding onto the pressure. 

Wherever he was, it wasn’t safe. Of course he could’ve depicted that from the flashback, but y’know. What he lacked in common sense, he made up for in super senses. 

It took him an embarrassingly long time to remember that he was captured with two other people. When he remembered, though, his eyes snapped open. 

Despite it being white as all hell, he kept his eyes open. He found himself laying in the middle of the floor, head facing up towards the blaringly light ceiling. Peter wasn’t in any place extravagant. He was almost positive that if he got up and stretched his arms out, he would be hitting both walls. On his left, he saw nothing. A survey to his right showed a glass wall, leading towards an open area in a circular shape. The middle area held nothing of interest, but like his small compartment, the walls were all glass.

Multiple cells, then.

Peter fought a groan as he got up, wincing and immediately bringing a hand up to his side. Clearly, he hadn’t been knocked out for _ too _long, then. Unless the wound was relatively fresh, in which case he would have some complaints.

Taking several deep breaths, Peter finally managed to land on his knees. Slow progress, but progress nonetheless. By then, his eyesight had finally adjusted to an appropriate level, allowing him to see the minute details in the area. Such as the tiny cameras embedded in the walls in the ceiling corners. And, on a bigger note, Tony and Matt in front of him.

Or rather, in the two cells in front of his. Which was still a good forty five feet ahead, but details.

Tony seemed a little worse for wear. His arc reactor was missing from his chest, leaving him defenseless in his athletic wear. Above his eyebrow was a small cut, dried blood mixing with the long hairs of his eyelashes. 

When Peter looked in the other cell, he couldn’t help the small wave of relief that peddled its way into his care. Matt, luckily, still had his helmet on to protect his identity. However, his armor was missing. Instead in its place was the skin tight black shirt and pants he wore under his suit. His weapons were also missing. 

Between the two, Tony seemed to be the one to regain consciousness first. His eyebrows were twitching together every few seconds, mouth moving. But then Peter studied Matt, and realized that the other man was already awake. Just faking it, probably for the cameras.

He must’ve known that Peter discovered his secret, because he moved his head ever so slightly in the direction of the glass. Twitched his pointer finger, not even lifting it off of the ground. A motion that wouldn’t have been spotted with the regular untrained eye. However, Peter knew exactly what it entailed. Him and Matt went over subtleties a while ago, just in case they were ever put in a position like this.

Peter had never been more grateful for Matt’s paranoia than he was in that moment.

Tony finally opened his eyes, confusion and then realization dawning on his face in a manner that probably mirrored Peter’s when he first woke up. His lips moved without making a sound, mouthing _ what the fuck? _to himself. 

Relatable.

Above, something crackled. A few seconds later, a voice cut through the space. 

“Ah, how wonderful for you to join us, Mr. Stark!”

Despite the happy sentence, the tone conveyed malice. Deep and reverberating, used to giving commands. Male, probably mid forties if Peter had to guess. He didn’t have much to go on, but he was generally right about things like this. 

Tony’s eyes wandered to the ceiling, before landing on Peter. Instantly he was scrambling up, going towards the wall and slamming himself against it. “Spiderman!” He called out, wincing at the impact. 

Peter smiled through the mask. “Hey, Tony. I’m alright.” 

He hoped that Tony believed him.

“Bullshit. You can’t pull that card when you’re actively holding your side while being trapped in a cheap version of a fish tank.” He scolded, gesturing around them with his head. Peter sighed. Of course Tony would call him out.

“Now, now,” The voice from the ceiling called out. “You wouldn’t want to disturb the sleepy devil now, would you?” 

Peter felt his breath hitch. Tony looked confused, until he looked over. “Oh, hell no.” His voice echoed throughout the space. “You couldn’t of just put us in the same cell? I mean, getting to view a man sleeping isn’t exactly something I planned on doing when I left the house today.” 

Huh. So they had two glass walls as opposed to Peter’s one. 

Rude.

Matt stayed in character throughout all this, never once changing his breathing pattern. His chest moved ever so slowly, holding it in for a few counts before releasing. 

A hum came from above. “Interesting… He must’ve taken quite the beating beforehand. The drugs in his system should’ve worn off.” A pause. “Oh well, this next part isn’t for him anyways.”

At that, both Tony and Peter look up in question. “Next part?” the latter questioned. “What, is this like a movie? We’re doing things in scenes now?” 

Peter hoped that his banter would hold up long enough for Matt to get an appropriate scope of the place. If not, then he was banking on Tony to have some technological advancement hidden in his tooth or something. All he could bring to the table was brute strength, and something told him that no matter how hard he slammed on the walls, there wouldn’t be any cracks.

Sadly, the voice in the ceiling was smart. Or of average intelligence, whatever. He wasn’t dumb. He knew that Peter was just using a form of distraction. “Ah, my little spider. Everything will be revealed in due time, don’t worry.” They could practically hear the smile in his voice as he drawled out the pet name.

Chills ran up Peter’s ramrod straight spine, causing his shoulders to move back and forth in rapid motion quickly. Apparently the visible sign of discomfort was an encouragement, however, because the voice started growling with a primal sort of laughter. Instantly, Tony was furious. Before he could do anything more than slam his first on the glass however, the voice continued.

“Now, you all would say that Spiderman had been seen together with Daredevil and Iron Man a lot recently, right? The news papers have never been so split in superhero and vigilante business. Insane, it is.”

Peter watched at Matt pressed on the ground ever so slightly with his ring finger. Peter nodded, telling him that he got the message. Matt knew where they were at, and knew how to get out. But obviously, there was an issue. Why else would he still be on the floor ‘sleeping’?

“Yeah, yeah. You don’t even need working eyes to know that that’s the talk of the year. Get on with your point.” Tony rolled his eyes, crossing his arms. Playing into the public billionaire everyone knew. The cocky arrogant bastard that he was labelled. Of course, it was just a ploy to get the villain riled up. “Oh! Better yet,” He moved his pointer in the air as if he had an idea. “How about you tell us why the hell you decided to capture the three red mice? I mean, there isn’t much between us besides the colors.”

But slowly, the pieces were clicking. Turning into place, forming a vivid picture in Peter’s mind. His brows furrowed under his mask, tasking a tentative step back from the glass. “That’s not the only thing,” he near whispered.

Still, he was loud enough for Tony to hear him. “What do you mean, kid? What else could there--” he stopped, realization donning on his face.

Spiderman was the missing link between Daredevil and Iron Man, just as the man implied.

Peter felt his throat dry as he turned his head towards the nearest camera. “What do you want from me?” He all but demanded, feeling his shoulders slimming out as he unconsciously slipped into his threatening demeanor.

When the voice spoke, it was hard. Cold. Calculating. Everything dark and intimidating. “Oh, spider. What I want isn’t that simple. See, I want _ revenge. _ I want _ vengeance. _I want what happened to me, to happen to you.”

Luckily, Tony stepped in. Peter wasn’t sure if he could trust himself to an answer, let alone while keeping a semi-calm persona. “What, did he take your dog? Hack off a finger, steal your hairline with his webs?” 

Matt took this opportunity to shoot up like a rocket, instantly running towards the glass wall separating him and Tony and putting all his force into a punch in the upper right corner. Tony jumped back with a slew of curses, putting his hand on his chest. “He’s going to release gasses in the cells,” he told the room, barely stopping his attack on the area. “Weakest point in the glass is here, break it and work on getting the hell out of here.” 

Tony snapped into gear, quickly drawing his fists out. “Well in case you didn’t realize it Sleeping Beauty, but I don’t have any force. My suit was fucked off of me, all I have is my intellect.”

Matt growled, pausing for a moment. “Go to the right, fourth tile from the wall. Step on it, a device will show up on a podium. Hack it and either open the gates or stop the fumes.” 

By then, Matt had already started on pounding the glass trapping him from his front. Peter felt like a fish out of water, completely unsure of what to do. He went to the back of the room, doing a small jog, before running full force at the lass much like Matt did previously. He put all of his weight on his shoulder, hissing in pain when he rammed into the glass.

Not even a miniscule crack.

The voice growled overhead, not pleased with Matt’s sudden bout of wakefulness and insightful information. “You pest!” He shouted in a moment of weakness. Tony was ahead on the tablet, typing furiously.

A sigh. “Seems as if I don’t have as much time as I originally predicted. No worries, everything will still go accordingly.” Matt wasn’t making any progress on the glass, either, but he still continued to relentlessly beat the wall as if it insulted his dead grandmother and her cat.

Peter’s spider sense shot through him like a dart, telling him that danger was imminent. Of course, he didn’t need the reminder. Matt’s message about the gas was warning enough. “Look man, you don’t want them! You just want me, right? I’m the one who wronged you!” He pleaded, hoping that whoever the voice was would let the others go.

Of course, there was no such thing as a reprieve. “See, this is where you’re wrong, spider. I wouldn’t go through the hassle of kidnapping two of your closest partners if they didn’t play a role in the game. And in this game, they’re just simple pawns. A stepping stone for the greater view.” 

“Fuck!” Tony cursed, slamming his hand down on the tablet. Sweat dripped down his brow, mixing with the dried up blood to form a pink liquid. His shoulders were tight with tension and his movements were fast and jerky as he continued to type relentlessly on the small device. 

“Do you remember your fight with The Rhino?” The voice directed towards Peter, who was busy climbing on the ceiling trying to find a possible weak spot to punch through. “You destroyed buildings in the battle without a care in the world. Just as long as you could calm down the bad guy, right?” With the last sentence, his voice turned upwards in a sneer.

Vaguely in the back of his head, Peter remembered. He fought him during his little crusade through New York, back when he lived in the shitty warehouse and was basically two steps away from death the entire time. That scuffle hadn’t been one of his proudest ones, but he still managed to knock the villain down in less than an hour.

Something broke across the room. It sounded suspiciously like Matt’s wrist.

“Luckily, there was only about twenty casualties. What are the odds?” By now, the hate and venom that had been so carefully weaved throughout each sentence was now pouring through every word, darkness and disdain threatening to consume. 

Tony didn’t bother looking up from the device as he busied himself with trying to break through its systems. “Yeah, and it would have been a hell of a lot more if Spidey wasn’t there!” 

The voice in the ceiling snapped back. “Shut it, Stark!” Silence followed over the intercom, only the sounds of Daredevil’s relentless beatings, Iron Man’s frantic typing, and Spidermans kicks reverberating throughout the dome shaped area. “Do you know what it’s like to have your wife look at you, and have no memory of you? Who you are, what you are to them. What it’s like to have your own daughter cower in fear because she’s in the hospital, and you’re just a man claiming to be something she can’t remember?”

Matt paused his movements for the first time, panting. Just like Tony, his body was coiled as tight as a spring. His fists were pulled to his sides, left wrist definitely broken. He bared his teeth with a large exhale, managing to look intimidating with a snarl. “What happened to your family isn’t Spiderman’s fault.” 

Like a firecracker, the man exploded. “Of course it was! If that damn building hadn’t collapsed on them, then they would still remember me! They would still love me! They would--” Matt cut him off, shouting just as loud. “You think they’d love a man who kidnaps heroes so that he can throw some pity party? Well, boo hoo! Hate to rain on your parade, but things just don’t work that way.”

Something banged and clattered over the intercom. Things falling off of a desk? Whatever it was, it caused a similar panel like Tony’s to erupt from the middle of the clearing in front of them, out in the open. A vicious snarl followed. “No-- You-- You don’t understand! Of course you don’t! Nobody could understand the pain of what it’s like!” He took a deep breath, lowering his voice to a more appropriate level. “Nobody, except your dear spider.”

Tony stopped moving.

Matt stopped breathing.

Peter stopped thinking.

And then, everything clicked. That horrible last puzzle piece was finally found and put in its respective place. All at once, the trio realized the connotations. The intentions. The end game.

Matt slammed his broken wrist against the glass, emitting a loud yell.

Tony went back to typing on the keyboard, typing faster than before.

Peter stood shock still.

Over the intercom, the man’s voice picked back up. “Ah, I see you all finally realized what the gas will be used for.” His voice was laced with a deadly smile, the predatory look painting a horrible vision in all of their heads.

“Kid!” Tony yelled from across the place. “My tablet is a bust, it was just made as a distraction! We need to get to that one!” He pointed to the tablet in the middle of the floor, all pristine looking and standing out against the blinding white of the area.

Matt didn’t stop moving. “You can unlock his door only from that one, if we work fast then he can run and get us all out.”

Yet again, another chuckle rang out over them. Peter _ knew _that the sound would be haunting his nightmares for the next few months. That is, if it wasn’t cursing his every waking moment already. “Ah, my dear devil. It’s bold of you to assume that you’re going to be getting out of this unscathed.”

Just then, Peter’s spider sense _ flared. _It lit up his entire body like fire raising through his veins, electricity shocking him to his core. Every hair on his arms and neck stood on end, giving a physical show of the danger warning. The air grew too cold and too hot at the same time. 

“Say goodbye to your little spider, my friends.”

Right then and there, Something sizzled open. Tony whirled around to look at the back of his cell, watching as a nozzle came out of the wall. Soon after, a yellow looking fume spewed throughout the room. “Shit!” He yelled, knowing he was out of time. 

“No!” Peter yelled, watching as the spray extended to the two struggling men. With all of his strength and then some, he sent his fist careening towards the glass. 

  
Not. A. Scratch.

Matt tried breaking the nozzle to stop the air flow, only successfully managing to get more in the face. Under his breath, he was whispering the Lord’s Prayer. 

Tony was coughing, trying to wave his hand in front of his face as if it would do anything. 

There wasn’t anything in Peter’s cell.

No gas.

Yet he still couldn’t breathe.

Tony slammed on something on the tablet, making a weird sound. Right after, Peter’s glass wall seemingly evaporated in air. “K-kid--” He tried to get out, before having his legs give out on him. He tumbled onto the ground, hacking up a storm.

“P-Pe--..” Matt tried, before leaning against the back wall. 

Finally, Peter snapped back. 

He jolted from his previously still position to cross the room in seconds, making it to the front of the tablet. On the screen was a bunch of code, nothing that he could see and figure out in the seconds he had.

The voice over head cackled in delight.

His eyes roamed over everything at lightning speeds. His heart wasn’t just pounding. No, it teamed up with the rest of his organs and decided to make a fucking mariachi band in his ribcage. Panic swelled in his throat as he tried harder to get through the thick glass before his spidey senses drove him mad.

Peter watched in the corner of his eye how Tony collapsed on the floor. 

“No!” He screamed to himself, clicking on the specific area in coding and changing it. Like a switch, all of the windowed walls disappeared, leaving the space looking incredibly open. 

Matt slinked down to the ground, head lolling down. Then, he slumped. Unconscious.

Peter was too late.

He wasn’t fast enough.

He wasn’t smart enough.

He wasn’t enough.

_ He couldn’t save Tony and Matt. _

It didn’t stop him from screaming like he was stabbed in the heart. Metaphorically, he argued, he was. The voice above continued on cackling, enjoying watching Peter live through this traumatizing experience. 

He whipped around, looking. Searching. Sending his senses out, trying to track the man and his whereabouts in the building. Peter wanted to… He wanted revenge. He wanted the cure. Logically, a part of him knew that it wouldn’t make him any better if he went and beat the man to a pulp like he so wanted to. 

It took a few seconds-- a few seconds too long-- but he was able to find him. Tall. Six foot two, at least. Smelled like sweat and energy drinks. He wore a long lab coat, soft rustling as he continued to laugh. A little overweight. Short hair, wrinkles in the face.

...Ticking.

The voice sighed, probably wiping his eyes like the theatrical fool he was. “Now, my little spider. I’ll give you a choice.” He clicked a button, bringing up a timer that displayed on the ceiling where Peter was at. It started at five minutes, bright red numbers a stark contrast to the blinding white around it. “Get your two friends out of here and let me go, or come after me and leave them here. I’m sure with your freaky senses, you know where I’m at. Free shot!”

Peter heaved, fists clenched so tightly that he was positive blood would’ve been drawn if he didn’t have his suit covering his hands. “Why would I let you go?” He demanded, voice rough and callous. 

The counter started going down.

The ticking got louder.

“Because, when the timer hits zero, this entire place will blow. And something tells me that even with your speed, you won’t be able to take both of them out and capture me in the process.” He sounded smug with the explanation, devious smile once more being heard over the intercom. “Have fun choosing, hero.”

Peter felt his spider sense raise in acknowledgement of the danger.  


He couldn’t move.

Every second felt like hours and every millisecond felt longer. Peter was stuck frozen with grief and the innate responsibility of the situation. He was the reason Matt and Tony got captured, the reason they all were in this problem in the first place. And now they were left suffering, and the perpetrator was going to be going off scott free because he had to get them out.

The choice was never a choice. 

He would always try to save the two.

A loud beep overhead drew his attention. Belatedly, he realized that was the man behind it all making his escape.

Peter didn’t have much time left.

With movements quicker than a cheetah, Peter ran across the room. He went straight to Matt, with him being the heavier of the two, and assessing the situation. There wasn’t any way he could do this gracefully.

Throwing caution out the window, he heaved Matt over his shoulder with a loud grunt. The man didn’t even make any sounds. Didn’t wake up, despite being touched. 

  
That scared Peter more than anything.

The muscles in his legs bulged with effort as he stood up from his crouch, making his way to Tony and doing the same thing with him over his other shoulder.

A quick glance at the time showed three minutes left.

It was obvious which door led out, so Peter didn’t waste any time with ripping it off its hinges and running down the hallway. There were only two other doors down the corridor, one being on the end, and the other being on the right of it.

Peter ran faster than he thought he was capable of with two full grown men on his shoulders, keeping the momentum up even when he brought up his right leg to kick the farthest door open. Instantly, he was greeted by a warm gush of outside air. His eyes took a second to adjust from the blinding white light to the darkness of the night, even as his legs continued moving away. He got to a nice distance before dropping the two, tears welling his eyes. “Y-you’re gonna be okay…” He promised them, despite knowing they wouldn’t be able to hear him.

Taking a second to decide, Peter ran back towards the building, this time opening the door on the right just to make sure nothing important was left behind. Silently he was thankful for his choice, because laying on the table in heaps were his web shooters, Tony’s arc reactor, and Matt’s body armor. 

His spidey sense told him he only had seconds, so he didn’t waste any time snapping his web shooters on, webbing all of the items, and hauling ass out of there.

But even with his adrenaline filled speed, Peter was still too close to the blast when it went off. His spider sense shrilled in agony a second before he felt the searing heat from behind. The sheer weight of the explosion sent him careening, flying off of the ground as if someone pushed him from behind.

At the last second, Peter twisted himself and the gear so that when he landed nothing was harmed. He let go of the web with a grunt as he fell straight into the gravel, rolling several feet with the momentum. When he slowed down and stopped, he was laying on his side, staring at the two unconscious men.

Everything hurt.

He couldn’t help the way his lungs swallowed air as if they had been starved of it. Couldn’t help the way he had to pull himself up and drag his mask from over his tear stained face to vomit on the ground. Peter couldn’t help the way his ribs protested with the movement.

He couldn’t help but look at Matt and Tony, and feel sick all over again.

It was his fault. Of course it was. Tony and Matt were only on that sick man’s radar because Peter was around them so much. If he had just backed off, stayed alone, if he just…

A voice that sounded strangely like Matt told him that he shouldn’t focus on possibilities. He should only focus on absolutes, and right now the absolute was that they needed to get out of there.

And then another voice chimed in. One that sounded like Tony. It told him that he couldn’t bear the weight of things that were out of his control, so he shouldn’t try. 

Peter stayed laying there for a while. He wasn’t sure how long. He just knew that by the time he got up, his throat had stopped burning from the acidic bile that rose from deep down, and the sun had started peeking from over the buildings in New York.

Deftly and numbly, Peter put Tony’s arc reactor back in its respective place. Dressed Matt up, and tried not to focus on how compliant he was. Made sure he had enough web fluid for the trip back to the apartment, because he only had an inkling of where he was at.

He tapped Tony’s chest twice, and watched as he was engulfed in armor. Gave a command to follow, as he picked up Matt and made sure to web his broken wrist so that it didn’t move that much from the journey. 

Peter didn’t feel anything as he shot out the first web of the day, flying out into civilization with the Iron Man armor flying behind him.

He didn’t smile, didn’t wave. Stayed close to the shadows to keep Daredevil out of the spotlight.

It was the least he could do for the man. 

He had failed him enough.

_____

When Peter got back to the apartment, his arms burned with overexertion. 

He had to tell the suit to stay in place as he brought Matt down through the fire escape, gently setting the man down on the silk sheets he so loved. Then, he went back and tapped the reactor twice, catching the still unconscious Tony as the suit dissolved back into its compartment.

It didn’t take long for him to change out of his suit and put it up, favoring a long sleeved shirt and plain sweats. His movements felt still and robotic, but at the same time he couldn’t bring himself to care. 

Taking Matt out of his suit was a lot harder than putting it on. By the time he finished, Peter could’ve sworn that his fingers were gonna fall off from messing with all of the small zippers and whatnots.

Peter was starving, tired, dirty, and for some odd reason, really wanted a milkshake. But he couldn’t force himself to move from his spot in between the living room where Tony was resting on the couch and the bedroom where Matt was resting. 

Belatedly, he realized it felt like he was viewing his life from an outsiders point of view. He didn’t feel things he could’ve been, didn’t function like he should’ve been. Everything was watery and clogged up.

He sniffled, just to hear something other than the slow heartbeats of his two father figures.

For a while, Peter just stood there. Looking, hoping, and wishing that either would move. But it was as if they had been held down by buildings, left incapacitated and stuck. 

Only when his stomach pains became too much for his enhanced metabolism did he move.

The shirt he was wearing was soft, but at the same time felt all too suffocating. A part of it was because it was Matt’s shirt, so it smelled like him. Peter tried to focus on that when grabbing a drink of water to quench his thirst, before slipping into the bathroom to properly take care of himself. 

When he came back out, he cast a glance over to the couch.

Only to find it empty.

Like he had been electrocuted, Peter suddenly zapped back into the real world. All of his senses were on high alert, his body posture tight. His eyes widened and he sucked in a breath, realizing that he was back.

He was back, he was functioning, and Tony was gone.

It took him an embarrassingly long time to connect the two rapid beating hearts in the bedroom to the two men, but when he did, he vaulted across the furniture and into the doorway.

Matt was propped up on his elbows, hiding his broken wrist. His face said confusion, while his posture screamed hostility. Tony was standing at the foot of the bed, breaths heaving and gauntlet pointed at the other.

“Woah, woah, woah! Oh my gosh, you guys!” Peter couldn’t help himself, jumping into the midst of a showdown. Both men jumped, eyes shooting towards Peter. The teen couldn’t stop the way tears flooded in his eyes, falling down his face without any warning. “You guys are okay! I mean, of course you’re okay, you’re both here, and like. Oh jeez, I can’t believe this. You’re looking at me. You recognize me!” He choked up with laughter, a breathless smile crossing his face. “It didn’t work.” He said in a whisper. Then, louder. “It didn’t work!”

He threw his arms up in the air, all of the stress from the previous few hours melting away. They were okay. Whatever that man did, it didn’t work. Tony was looking at him with confusion and Matt was asking him a question, and--

Wait.

“--going on?” Matt asked slowly, pushing himself off of the bed. He hissed in discomfort at his wrist, but otherwise didn’t pay it any mind. “Peter?” He stepped closer with a slight limp, ready to pull the younger at his side.

“Hey, hands off my kid!” Tony yelled, charging up his wrist gauntlet. Matt stopped his motions, while Tony ran across the room, yanking on Peter’s arm and pushing him behind his back in a protective manner.

Peter looked between the two confusingly, before rubbing his eyes to get the blurriness in his vision to fade away. 

Matt looked furious now, fists clenched and eyes averted. “Who are you,” he started, demanding in a voice slightly above his gravelly Daredevil voice, “and what are you doing in my apartment, claiming him as your own?” He gestured towards Peter, who had the look of realization on his face.

Tony damn near growled, using his unarmored hand to push Peter back even further. “Uh-uh, Big Tall And Buff, you don’t get to pull that act on me. What, did you kidnap us? Thought that you could hold us for ransom? Because if that’s the case, then I have another thing coming--”

“You guys don’t remember each other.”  
  
Both adults stop talking, instead turning to Peter with confused expressions. 

Peter didn’t notice anyways, because the earlier foreboding seemed to crash into him, throwing him like the explosion had. Whatever that gas was, had worked. But not in the way the man anticipated. That much was clear by the fact that they both had addressed Peter separately.

Matt spoke next, using the same tone of voice he used when calming Peter down from a panic attack. “Peter, what’s going on?” He gestured towards Tony. “And who is this?”  
  
Peter couldn’t say anything.

Nothing made sense.

This couldn’t be happening. 

(Why was it happening?) 

Everything was crumbling. Falling apart, collapsing. 

His knees wobbled, and his voice sounded like he had been screaming for hours previous.

“You guys don’t remember.”


	2. He Burns Like Iron (But Tastes Like Ash)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, strike me down, take me away.
> 
> Tax are due, it's time to pay.
> 
> Face what I deserve, here comes Judgement day.
> 
> I won't run, the guilt is mine.
> 
> Still I'm denying all my crimes.
> 
> Face what I deserve, here comes Judgement day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, yes, I am not dead.
> 
> Originally this chapter was gonna be longer. SOOOO much longer. There's still a lot of plot points that I need to hit before I can even think about wrapping the story up in the final chapter.
> 
> But then I saw how close I was to 20k, and said fuck it.
> 
> So the story is now four chapters long! Woo!
> 
> Huge thank you to my beta Rex for getting this checked for me, and huge thanks for everyone for putting up with the long awaited chapter. Honestly, I had no idea it would've taken me this long. Fingers crossed it won't be like this for the next two chapters.
> 
> There'll be more notes at the end (because I feel like I've talked too much here already lmao) so please, at the end, take a few seconds to read those!
> 
> Onwards to the story!

When Peter was little, he used to read a lot of books. 

He didn’t have a specific genre he liked. Any opportunity to read was a welcomed one. Uncle Ben and Aunt May used to make it a weekly thing; if his grades were high, he would be rewarded with a trip to the local library. Even if the books weren’t permanently in his possession, Peter still loved them all the same. With his size, the books were usually bigger than his hands. The old librarian would always chuckle as he stood on his tippy toes just to reach the counter, getting his book of the week. 

One thing he remembered from most of the books, was how they talked about heartache. 

It was always the heart feeling crushed. Crumbled. Like a pain in his chest that felt like fire and burned like ice. It was like glass. Shattering. Absolutely world rocking. Sometimes, it left the character out of breath. Out of loop. Peter knew that he had experienced this feeling before. When Ben first died, and then when May died. The cold nights where he was alone with only a few trinkets to keep him from floating away in some warehouse back in Queens. 

But he hadn’t realized how wrong he was with the assumption that hearts shatter with a heavy enough hit. No, hearts don’t shatter. 

They rot.

—-

  
  


Peter felt all the air leave his lungs as he threw himself on the couch haphazardly, slouching back so that the cushions pushed his head to rest on his chest. 

Matt and Tony were both looking at him expectantly, one glare more prevalent than the other. 

The lawyer looked concerned, probably in tune with Peters bodily sounds. Like the slow beating of his usually humming bird heart. The way his eyelashes kissed his cheeks longer and longer, each blink carrying a heavy weight to them. 

Hell, Matt could probably smell the emotions that were leaking from the teen. 

(He wouldn’t put it past him.)

Tony has his hip cocked out to the left, both hands resting on his sides. Every now and then he would shuffle in a clear way of discomfort. Of course, if you really think about it,  _ anyone  _ would be uncomfortable waking up in a random persons apartment, on their couch, with absolutely no recollection of how they got there. 

But that was the kicker. 

Tony didn’t wake up in a random persons apartment. 

He woke up in Matt’s. 

But whatever that psycho did with the gas? Whatever chemicals there were? It worked. In a backfire-y type of way, since they were both supposed to forget  _ Peter _ , but it doesn’t matter. It fucking worked, and now Tony doesn’t know who Matt is. 

“I’m gonna need a drink,” Peter stated, one hand coming up to massage his eyes. 

Matt quirked a lip at him, while Tony looked like someone had gone and ruffled his feathers. “Um, no. Try again.”

Instead of saying anything to add to the parental reprimanding, Matt instead asked a different question. “What’s going on, Peter? Because it seems like you’re the only one with answers.”

He tried not to pressure Peter, to which the younger would forever be grateful for. But he was still sore from the revelation, so it still cut like it was intended. 

Pete threw his head back, both of his hands now coming up to his face, his palms resting over his eyes as he pushed. “I know I am,” he said after gulping and taking in a few harsh but slow breaths, “and that’s the problem.”

Matt moved forwards a few steps with his bad hand out, but hesitated. No doubt under those red rimmed glasses, his eyes shone with confusion and trepidation. Debating whether or not to go and help his kid, or give him distance. 

Tony picks up on the fact that his media-loved Stark face wasn’t right for the moment, and quickly dropped it to put on his preserved sad face. “Pete, what’s wrong?” His voice dripped with concern, as he himself took a couple of steps forward before hesitating, much like Murdock. 

Peter moved his hands and instead ran them through his hair, sighing and dumping his head down. He felt like he hadn’t slept in five days and hadn’t eaten for seven. All of his usual energy was sapped away, as if it forgot who Peter was, aswell. 

The least he could do was offer an explanation to the two in the room. 

But how would he do it without revealing Matt’s identity?

_ “Hey, yeah, Spiderman, Daredevil, and Iron Man were all stopping a gang and got kidnapped. Then, we all woke up in these cells, right? And the villain drones on and on and Matt broke his wrist trying to get out, but it didn’t matter! Because he distributed this gas that was gonna make you guys forget me, but it backfired! Funny, right? Instead, you guys forgot  _ each other!”

Yeah, right. 

Peter was sure that if he turned on the news, their early adventure would be on it. After all, the girls would have to be sent to the hospitals and then have relatives contacted to come pick them up. Plus, the gang was a large one with a lot of power, and to be taken down overnight? That’s no doubt viral. 

But instead of traveling to the TV that Matt had got just for him, Peter got up and started pacing. His genius brain was really disproving its name as it sat in his head, running less than a mile per hour. No thoughts surfaced, nothing to help him. 

Matt must have sensed his rising heartbeat, because he took a step away from Tony to put a hand on Peter’s shoulder to still the teen. “Kid,” he murmured, moving closer so that their conversation would be near silent. “Breathe. We can wait. Don’t freak out, alright?” He gestured to the kitchen, this time louder for Tony. “Would you like tea?”

Tony, who was previously squinting and trying to figure out Murdock’s intentions, crossed his arms protectively over his chest. A ‘no’ was on his lips, but it deflated as he watched Peter take a breath and nod in appreciation, looking at the man as if he had saved his cat from dying.

Interesting.

Peter moved like he knew where to go in the kitchen, opening the right cabinets and drawers to grab what they needed. Before he knew it, Tony had a warm cup of tea in his hands. Gingerly, he took a sip, trying not to show how parched he actually was. But as soon as the warm liquid hit his tongue and slid down his throat? Tony knew his disinterest was a lost cause. The happy hum that emulated from his throat was proof enough of that. A small blush rose to his cheeks and he eyed Matt, but he couldn’t decide if the man noticed or not with those damned glasses covering his eyes.

The other two members had sat down at the coffee table, folding their legs under so they were resting on their calves. A few seconds later, Matt winced, and instead shifted so that he was sitting criss crossed. 

It was then when Tony realized that he was holding the cup with one hand, the other resting across his side. 

He must’ve noticed the same time Peter did, because the teenager paled slightly while eyeing the limb.

“Oh my God, I forgot. Your arm is--”

“Fine. My arm is fine.”

Peter shot Matt an unbelieving look, and Tony couldn’t help but feel like an outsider despite being a few feet away. 

He casually plonked down next to the older male, eyeing his wrist. He sucked in a disapproving bit of air, making a sort of sizzling sound. “No, bud, your wrist is fucked two ways down to Tuesday. Any idea how?” At the last sentence, he turned towards Peter, who seemed to shrink down.

Peter closed his eyes, feeling the way the steam from his mug hit his chin and left it damp. 

He knew he had to tell them.

It was better him than anyone else. If Matt had heard someone talking about it, he wouldn’t be happy. If Tony had FRI somehow pull footage and figured out what was going on, he would freak out.

The least he could do was tell them why they were in this position.

He sighed. Brought the mug to his lips and took a sip of the sugary drink. Hated the way his insides warmed up, like they were happy about his choice.

Opened his eyes.

“It’s all my fault.”

_____

He told them everything.

Everything ranging from before they left, to when they did, first reactions, co-parenting for the better half of a year, to now. Why they didn’t know each other anymore. How harrowing it was to beat on that damn cell like their lives depended on it, only for nothing to happen. How Peter was too slow, how he wasn’t enough. How he carried them out of the building before it exploded and then how he carried them home.

He left out the part where he threw up. That wasn’t something they needed to know.

(Matt could probably smell it.)

  
  


By the time he was done, he felt drained. The sensation reminded him of the time months ago when he laid in Matt’s arms, crying over everything that happened. The night he told Matt everything, ranging from Tony to homelessness.

My, how the times have changed.

Tony, for the most part, looked disturbed. As if he couldn’t believe that what happened actually happened. His eyes continued to dance between Peter and Matt, never staying on one for too long. If Peter squinted, he could’ve sworn he saw math symbols flying around his head.

And Matt? Matt looked stone cold. Closed off. His face displayed nothing and his eyes were covered to hide his expressive gaze. His shoulders were tight and his back was coiled, and his broken wrist was tucked under his other arm. His head was tilted down, lips pursed.

Peter wanted to beg for them to say something.

Anything.

Thank God that Tony kicked into gear first, scrunching up his nose and looking at the teen. “So, what?” He asked crossing his arms over his chest and waving his hand between Matt and Peter. “We coparented you? Really?” 

Peter closed his eyes and nodded, waiting for the outburst that was no doubt going to happen.

Tony looked at Matt, before roaming his eyes up and down his body. His eyes lingered on his lower half, before he shrugged. “Yeah, makes sense.” He pointed to Matt’s glasses. “Not sure about those, though. They look hot, but meh. More of my style.”

It took Peter a few minutes too long to realize what conclusion Tony came to. 

However, in those few minutes, Matt realized it and looked absolutely baffled. His jaw was dropped and he looked scandalously towards Tony, lips turned down and open with his brows furrowed. Peter would’ve been on the floor in laughter in any other situation, no doubt.

All of Matt’s thoughts were practically painted on his forehead in neon letters. Mainly ranging from “what the fuck?” to “I’m dating a man?” all the way down to “why would I be dating a man? Let alone, Tony Stark?”

Peter misses the gay panic of a man to his right, instead losing himself in calculations for who the villanous man may have been, to what he did, and how he could reverse it. So far, he didn’t have much information. Nothing really stuck out about him, except for his family story. If Peter somehow hacked into the hospital records, he may be able to trace the story back to him. That would require finding out which hospital his family was at, though.

Tony caught the look and feel that Matt was practically exuding, a question on his lips. But when he turned his head slightly to view the lamp in the far corner with a rosary resting on the shade, everything clicked in his genius brain. Awkwardness flooded his veins at the thought of him turning a religious man into something his life blood basically shunned with every breath. 

… He needed to go for a bit. Process everything.

“Well,” he said, clapping his hands together and rocking on the balls of his feet. “Seems like we all need a little while to think through things. And I, for one, would like to do so with a scotch in hand.” A smile was on his lips, even if it was fake. “So, Pete, where are we at?”

Much to everyone's surprise, Matt was the one who answered him. “Hell’s Kitchen.” Tony whistled, before jokingly asking “wow, like to live on the edge, eh? Daredevil’s pretty nasty, man. I’ll hook you up with a better place, if you want. Of course, that better place may be with me.”

Matt lost his previous expression, instead clocking his head to the side in question. “No thanks, I’m perfectly happy with living where I am. And watch it, Stark. I still save people each night, despite what the tabloids try to say.”

… Silence

Peter’s jaw dropped.

Tony looked shocked.

  
Matt was confused.

“What?” Matt asked, tilting his head between the two. “Did he not know before?”

“You dumbass,” Peter gasped.

Tony remained shellshocked, unable to comprehend the fact that one, he was apparently dating or married to Daredevil, or two, that the man was actually an idiot.

It took longer than it should’ve for Matt to realize what happened. They all could see the exact moment it clicked in his mind, as well as the same second it took for him to start backpedaling. “I meant before our memories were wiped. Seemed like it made sense… If we were, you know…”

God, the poor man couldn’t even say anything about being relatively close. Tony almost felt bad. Peter was still oblivious to their wrong connections, however, so he just shrugged assuming he meant them coparenting.

When reality seeped back into Tony’s features, the couldn’t stop what blurted out of his mouth. “What the fuck? I’m dating horn head?” He shook his head and chuckled, cocking out his leg and putting his hands on his hips. “Knew there was more to that ass than you let on, Murdock.” 

… Mortification was a shared term to describe both Matt and Peter, for obvious reasons.

Matt had never felt so uncomfortable in his  _ life.  _ There was absolutely nothing that could top this moment, he was positive. Hearing a comment like that may have just caused him to chuckle or blush embarrassed, but to hear it from Iron Man? Tony Stark, a world known celebrity who’s notorious for wooing anything that can speak? Matt felt his face burn darker than his suit. 

Don’t even get him started on the existential crisis about being with a man.

A man like Tony Stark.

(Seriously, what was he thinking before? Managing to snag a Stark? It was probably part of a big plan, one that Matt couldn’t remember.)

However, Peter felt like ringing up Doctor Strange and asking him to portal him into oblivion. Everything in him halted with incredible speed, brain only supplying an image of three dots, each one bouncing one at a time. 

He finally realized what Matt and Tony thought about when he said ‘co-parenting,’ and now he decided that he deserved the crown for ‘dumbass.’ God, he felt so stupid. But when he opened his mouth to disperse the theory, he found that his vocal chords were on strike. He couldn’t find it in him to say anything, even as he waved his arms around. 

A gaping fish. He looked like a gaping fish.

And what did Tony see?   
  
Well, he saw Peter freeze, while Matt proceeded to lose it.

Tony furrowed his brow and went to say something else, but before he could question what he said, Matt managed to vault up the stairs across the room, slamming open the door leading to the roof. In a flash, he was gone. Peter had yet to say anything, face turned in a weird grimace at the thought of Tony and Matt being anything more than reluctant friends.

Tony was impressed as all hell with Matt’s acrobatic skills. 

He turned to Peter, a smile on his face. “Well. He sure is interesting.”

  
  


_____

  
  


It had been a few days since they all were at Matt’s place. So far, Peter had been able to figure out absolutely nothing about the villain. On top of work, extracurricular work, and just checking in on the two adults, he’d been running himself ragged.

The schedule he meticulously laid out from day to day was in shambles. Which, he reasoned, was kind of already in shambles. There wasn’t a way for him to be able to tell when someone needed to be saved. But still, the point stands.

Any time he would check up on Tony, he would ask the man a few questions. Mainly revolving around how he was doing, if he or FRIDAY caught anything suspicious, or if him and Matt had talked. 

Each question was always answered the same. 

“As fine as I can be, Pete,” Tony would say. 

“FRI has been searching all the databases, but there’s nothing there that helps with ‘possibly tall, burky, and definitely evil.’” 

And then, Peter’s favorite. “No, I haven’t talked to that blind idiot. It’s like any time I’m in the same building, he leaves. No trace whatsoever, just his buddies questioning his whereabouts. If you get ahold of him, let him know that his disappearing act is quite impressive.”

He never tells Matt that.

(Peter’s sure that Matt knows.)

After the same questions, they would go back to how things were before. The days or nights would be spent in the workshop messing with something together, upstairs in the communal lounge watching movies, or shuffling around the kitchen looking for sugary goods that shouldn’t be in their dietary plans.

With Matt, things were different.

Of course they were different for him.

The few days since the incident, Matt had been tense. Ready to fight, flinching at the loudest noises. There were some times where Foggy had been talking to him, only to stop mid sentence once he realized that Matt had zoned out, probably listening to something else entirely.

Foggy would always grab a tennis ball out of fuck-knows-where and clonk his lawyer partner straight in the head with startling accuracy. 

Peter tried to talk to Matt about it. The questions he’d ask for the blind man were a little more extensive compared to Tony’s, but in the same fashion, they were all answered in likeness.

“How are you?” Peter would ask. The times that Matt wasn’t zoned out, he would answer with “great. How about you? I know you’re working hard on this, as well.”

After some careful dancing around that topic, Peter would ask the next question. “How are patrols? Anything exciting pop up?”

Matt would always, no matter if he were mentally present or not, flinch slightly at the question. A barely there movement, but enough for Peter’s inquisitive eyes to spot. Then, he’d readjust his position to better conceal whatever new wound he was hiding underneath his clothes. “If anything exciting popped up, you would’ve probably seen it on the news by now. Or via Foggy yelling at me, much to my chagrin.”

And then finally, the most tame question. “Why are you avoiding Tony?”

The question was like a trigger for Matt’s attention. Instantly he would turn his head towards Peter, seeing him with his sightless eyes. “He threatened me in my own home. Insulted me by making inappropriate comments towards my figure. And now, because of my moment of weakness, knows my biggest secret. I have every reason to avoid him. He’s trouble, and this entire situation is a prime example.”

They’d sit in silence for a little, Matt’s breaths coming out heavy against the little sounds that weren’t soaked through the walls. Peter would watch him with a sympathetic gaze, feeling sorrowful for the position they were all thrust in. Then, after a few minutes, Matt would sigh and rub his face with one hand, pulling at his jaw and tilting his head up. 

“I’m sorry,” he’d say in a quiet voice, before taking off his blood red glasses and rubbing his eyes. Despite being in his mid twenties, Matt would always look so much older. Harrowed and tortured by something that he refused to talk about. It carried from the bags under his eyes, to the tightness in his shoulders. The way he barely waved his hands at his sides when walking, to the ramrod straight spine.

He stopped going to church. Said that it wasn’t really Holy. Not anymore.

Peter wants to hug him. Tell him it’s okay to not be strong. To fall apart. Give him that same feeling that he himself had months ago, when Matt held him in his silk sheets and Peter cried like a baby about everything wrong in his life.

But each time, Peter can’t get his arms to move.

No matter how much he wants to get up, jump in Matt’s lap and punch the sadness out of him, he can’t. So Matt continues to sit there, tearing himself apart from the inside out, while Peter stays immobile with his self given paralysis, wishing that he could do more.

The worst part about it all, though?

Peter feels Matt pulling away. Secluding himself, keeping secrets from everyone. Foggy and Karen caught on, too, and have been asking him questions about it. Of course, he didn’t have answers. 

The only person he had to talk to was Tony.

And even then, Peter was reluctant to do so. After all, Matt was just being Matt. Foggy told him that he does this. It’s normal. He’ll go back to being his usual self in due time. 

But Peter didn’t want this to be normal.

“I just don’t know what to do,” he told Tony. Currently, the duo were in one of the lower labs that was typically used for explosive experiments. Peter had his arms pulled up on the desk in front of him, slouching and resting his chin on his raised palm. His other hand fiddled with a dull pencil, blueprints scattered all around him.

Tony stood a few meters away, arm of one of the many Iron Man suits attached to his right side. His mouth was filled with a screwdriver, other hand preoccupied with messing with some of the inner wiring. He raised a singular eyebrow in acknowledgement, a hum following to urge the teen to continue. 

Peter sighed, before dropping the pencil and swivelling around to look at Tony. “Matt’s… He’s never been this way with me. We’re usually really open, you know? I tell him about my woes, and he shares whatever injuries he accumulated the night prior. Now I’m lucky if I can get a chortle out of him.” 

Tony spit the screwdriver out, moving his tongue around his mouth with a sour expression. “So- you’re telling me that Daredevil has emotional motion sickness?” Tony paused, giving Peter time to tilt his head in consideration, before continuing. “Look, kid. Obviously this just fucked the man up. It’s nothing personal. He’s just going through his shit, and apparently his coping mechanism is to ruin everything in his life.” A shorter pause, followed by “hey wait a minute, that’s actually kind of relatable...”

Peter chose to ignore the last comment, looking down at his shoes. All Tony did was rephrase what Foggy had told him, but in a less personal manner. ‘Just give him time, things will be okay.’ 

But the problem was things weren’t okay  _ right now. _ And right now, Peter needed things to be okay. Because if they weren’t, then his priorities would be skewed and he would be busy watching over other people when he should be watching for the one villain that started it all.

He brought his hands up to his face and rubbed his eyes, wishing that the chemicals in the air that fateful night just did what they were supposed to do, and make him forget all of this.

Tony must’ve seen the tiredness that took over his body, because the clanking of metal filled the air, followed by the soft padding of feet. “Hey,” Tony said in a low voice, “I’ll talk to him, alright? No stress. Man to man. Hero to… Questionable hero.” He clapped Peter on the back, before rubbing up and down in a soothing manner. 

Peter gazed at him with the most resigned look he could muster. “But how are you going to do that? You say it every day, no matter what, Matt always runs away before you’re even in the same room with him!” 

In response, Tony smirked.

“The man has a routine, right? It’ll be easy to track a blind man in Hell’s Kitchen. Just wait.”

  
  


_-⎊-_

  
  


True to his word, Tony was able to track down Matt’s routine. Sure, it took a little over a week, but what could he say? It was Daredevil they were talking about. Man knew how to avoid attention.

The hardest part about Tony’s plan wasn’t getting Daredevil compliant. No, that would come easy-- he hoped. The hardest part was finding Matt when he was angry.

Angry enough to let his sense-shield down.

Angry enough to get Tony close. 

Luckily, on that Thursday evening, it happened.

Peter told him that Matt had a bad day, and needed to let off some steam. So of course, the blind man went where he always did: Fogwell’s Gym. 

Tony stood a building away with his hood pulled up, watching the entrance to the building. At around seven thirty, Matt turned the corner. He didn’t bother keeping up the blind man act, instead keeping his cane closed and tucked in his loose jacket pocket. Gone were his signature glasses, revealing his sightless eyes that danced around and posed as undamaged mirrors. On his shoulder rested his black duffel bag, one arm grabbing the strap while the other swayed casually at his side with a wad of cash in his palms.

As he opened the door, someone greeted him. After a hushed conversation and the passing of said bills, the man left the building completely open for Matt.

Tony waited a few minutes before pulling up his hood and trailing along to the doors.

Despite not trying to do so, the door opened quietly and effortlessly. But Tony didn’t let his pulse calm down just yet. He knew Matt would’ve heard it a mile away if he were in the right state of mind. 

The sound of flesh pounding on a bag rang throughout the building, filling Tony’s mind with practices with Happy as he fell to the mat, exhausted. Surely enough, in the dim light from the buildings outside, the strong figure of Matt could be seen bouncing around, slamming his unwrapped fists against the punching bag.

His jacket had been discarded by his duffel, leaving his torso bare and exposed. 

Tony was appalled by all of the scars that littered his chiseled body. 

Each one, starting from the bite mark at his lower hip all the way to the large puncture wounds that colored his collar bone. Old ones remained unaffected, but the still-bandaged ones had blood soaking up the white cotton wrap, no doubt still bleeding. It didn’t seem like Matt noticed, though. 

A part of Tony wondered if Matt liked the pain. Used it as a reminder as to what he had done, why he was doing it. 

Another part wondered if it was a way for him to seek out penance for his sins. 

(Tony really hoped it wasn’t a sex thing.)

To his joy-- or relief, really-- Matt hadn’t noticed him. Even as Tony walked around the ring to get a better view of the man on the other side, Matt hadn’t stopped his movements. 

For a blind man, Matt was incredible with the way he moved. 

No matter how hard he hit the bag, no matter how far it slung and threatened to snap off of its chains, Matt knew exactly where to hit. His foot placement was perfect, and with each small hop he made, the statement never changed. There was hardly any light bathing the area, yet Matt moved like he always did: calculated. Fluid. Like he knew exactly where every molecule in the room was, and he knew just how hard he needed to push his body parts to get where he needed to be.

Tony was fascinated.

He sat next to Matt’s discarded duffle, taking his eyes off of Matt’s form for a few seconds to scan the area. The place was shabby, old and rusted with love. Across the walls were posters about Battlin’ Jack Murdock and all of his battles. 

On the far right, an article over his murder.

If he had any doubts or questions as to why Matt decided to make this building his place of safety, they were all gone. Tony felt like he was intruding on a sacred place, a place for the Murdock boys. All four walls lined up with a father’s legacy, a legacy that he left for his son to see.

But of course, the Murdock boys were born with tragedy in their blood. 

The legacy Jack had left went unseen by his son, now only for the eyes of all of the unworthy people who wandered in the doors. For people like Tony.

Sweat dripped off of Matt’s brow and onto the floor, trailing past his parted lips. 

Tony grabbed stuff to wrap his knuckles and arms with, deciding to finally step in and intervene. He opened his mouth and inhaled, ready to make the first comment to announce his presence, when Matt beat him to it. 

“If you’re here to talk to me about before, then leave.”

His voice sounded dark, but not nearly as bad as his Daredevil growl. No, this time, the gravel was out of exertion. Tiredness. Anger. Turmoil. The sentence was enough to send chills down Tony’s spine, and he  _ really  _ didn’t want to think about the reasoning as to why.

To his credit, Tony only paused for a second before continuing his progression towards the Devil at the bag. “Nope. Won’t mention it if you won’t. How’d you know I was here?”

Matt threw a right hook, bag flinging to the side. He licked his lips, before grabbing hold of it with his left to do the motion continuously. “Your steps were loud. Pulse racing. You reek of trepidation and unsureness. You were going to say something just now, a question. One you weren’t confident in.”

He finally stopped, turning to face Tony. Matt leaned on one leg slightly, chest heaving and glistening in the shallow light. His eyes were pointed towards the ground, but his head was cocked to the side with both eyebrows raised in his direction. Blood dripped from his knuckles, hands hanging loosely.

“Why are you here,” he demanded in a lighter voice. A resigned tone. Like he knew that the gig would be up eventually. 

Tony swallowed, before raising the supplies in his hands and shaking them in a bad interpretation of jazz hands. “Figured you’d want to punch someone. Perfect timing, too, because I haven’t practiced my fighting in too long.”

Matt tensed up, walking past him to grab his water that was sitting on the bench next to his stuff. He took a few sips, before closing the lid with his left and wincing. Tony was about to make a smart remark about how turning the lid shouldn’t have hurt, but then he realized. 

When they woke up, Matt had been cradling his left wrist to his side. Peter talked about it being broken. The damned devil was just pounding on the punching bag, which Tony related belatedly that Matt had been favoring his right arm more than his left when swinging.

A pang of sympathy along with something else pulled through Tony’s veins as he opened his mouth. “Hey, let me see your wrist.” 

Of course, he was expecting resistance. The man in front of him practically wrote the definition of the word. However, he wasn’t  _ entirely  _ expecting Matt to tense up more than he was before-- which Tony genuinely didn’t know was possible,-- clenching his fists at his side. “It doesn’t matter. It’s healed.”

_ Bullshit,  _ Tony thought. It had only been around two weeks at that point. 

“There’s no way--”

“It’s. Healed.”

Fire scorched the two words as they came out of Matt’s sinful lips, singing and nipping at Tony’s feelings. Gravelly was one of the most accurate words to describe his tone. Not quite Daredevil yet, but not exactly just a tired Matt, either. He was assertive with his statement, completely convinced that he was telling the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.

To his credit, his wrist didn’t look bad. 

Somehow, he must have known how Tony was feeling, because his shoulders loosened just a bit. He lost the stone cold look on his face, changing the guarded expression into one that better represented how he looked. “Sorry,” he said through clenched teeth. 

Tony rose an eyebrow, expecting an answer.

Matt sighed and closed his eyes, shaking his head very slightly and grimacing. Tony only had moments to wonder why, before the man started talking. “I have… This is going to sound stupid. But I have absolute control over my body. If I meditate well enough, I’m able to expedite the healing process. It’s how I’m able to go out nearly every night. I’ve had… Quite a lot of free time recently to recuperate.”

It looked like the statement turned its fiery habits inwards, burning Matt as he betrayed their trust and let them out in the open air. His fists clenched and unclenched, before coming up to rub at his arms in an act of insecurity. 

Oddly, it felt like that information was personal.  _ Incredibly  _ personal. Like Matt didn’t share that news with anyone. And if his trust issues were anything to go by-- Which Tony unfortunately heard a lot about--, then he probably kept that ability to himself. Because the magnitude he was referring to, total control of his body? To the point where he could essentially heal himself from any type of injury? 

The mental ability that he had to have was appalling.

Tony blinked, and Matt’s figure was gone from in front of him. Filling the empty air was sounds of the punching bag once more.    
  
He swivelled around to catch Matt, once more, beating the snot out of the inanimate object. His face screamed concentration, but his body begged for a break. Yet the boxer that was shackled in his DNA urged him to continue, Devil that was chained in his soul begging for more.

Matt may not stop boxing, but that didn’t mean Tony was just going to up and leave. No, he came here to fight. And fight he would.

He wrapped his arms and fists properly, taking time to make sure that he was mentally prepared for what he was about to pull off. 

Taking a breath to steel himself, Tony got up.

Went behind Matt, who was still working on the bag.

Closed his eyes.

And punched as hard as he could.

Hot, searing pain sprained from his knuckles, to his wrist, all the way up his arm. Within a fraction of a second, Tony realized that his hand had been twisted and pushed behind his back, with him facing the opposite direction to where he had been previously. 

Matt was pressed behind him, holding his knuckle in a grip that could bring a gladiator to his knees. Tony felt his breath catch and his heart still before beating rapidly in a tandem only it knew.

He didn’t dare move. If he did, there was no promise that he was getting out of this with both of his hands still functional.

Matt leaned in closer, lips brushing against Tony’s ear. If he focused hard enough, he could feel the smile that pulled on the other man's lips. “You’d really hit a blind man?” Matt asked in that unfairly gorgeous voice of his, sending chills going up and down Tony’s spine.

Of course the fucker knew that Tony was winding up behind him before, with his back turned. And of course, Tony was realizing, he probably knew what he was doing to him now. 

He swallowed, surprised at how steady his voice came out despite it being at a near whisper. “You’d really hurt a man with a heart condition?”

A laugh from his behind, grip remaining steady as ever. Matt showed no signs of moving, each inhale his sweaty chest barely brushing Tony’s back.

It was then that Tony finally realized how dark it was. He could barely make out the shadows of the equipment around the room, some parts being completely pitch black.

He was on the Devil’s turf, and he willingly offered himself as a sacrifice.

“You want to fight?” Matt asked him, lifting Tony’s arm up more from the angle it was at, sending more pain shrilling up. He gasped at the sensation, only a twinge of regret over his prodding earlier surfacing. 

“Let’s fight.”

A woosh, and then nothing. The weight behind Tony was gone, his arm jerking low without the unnatural bend there to keep it up. He swivelled around and raised his fists in a defensive measure, only to be met with absolutely nothing, besides the punching bag that swung on its chain from its earlier beatings.

Tony turned his head left and right, eyes moving double time to try to catch any movement. There wasn’t any sounds in the dull space except for the creaking of chains. 

His heart raced and his hands felt sweaty, and his right eye  _ really  _ wanted to develop a twitching habit at that point. But he kept his guard up, waiting for rustling. Matt had to move at some point.

And some point, he did. Because right as Tony thought that, he felt a boot collide with the back of his left knee, sending him toppling. He tried to catch his movements and turn his fall into a spin that took Matt down with him, but the man jumped over his leg as if he knew pre cognitively what Tony was planning on doing. Another blow to his shoulder, and he was laid immobile on the ground. 

It felt like he had been bulldozed by Captain America and then had The Hulk shoved into him. Pain erupted from both parts in his body, yet when he looked up and around to defend himself against the Devil, he was once more met with nothing.

“God  _ damn,”  _ Tony whispered, getting up despite the pains in his body. “You aren’t holding back, are you?” 

Rustling from the left. Voice from the right. “If I wasn’t, you’d be dead by now.”

More chills up Tony’s spine. How did Matt do that?

A blow to his back. Him tumbling, falling. Only catching a faint sign of sweat on a chest, before nothing. 

Tony didn’t like this game anymore.

Yet he sighed, cursed Peter for getting him started on this mission in the first place, before getting up once more.

This time, he started walking with his eyes closed. Tried to focus on the room, every molecule placement. Undoubtedly he looked stupid. But that was one of the few joys of having a blind audience, he thought ruefully.

Tony heard the way his heart rate was accelerated, the way his adrenaline spiked everything in his body to demand him to fucking  _ run.  _ The loud thumps of his feet from under him, the old punching bag barely swaying on the rusty metal chains.

Almost imperceptible footprints to his right. Shallow breaths, no doubt a gift. 

Tony held out his fist, and held Matt’s in his grasp.

He opened his eyes and moved fluidly, using the same technique he used on Natasha back when they trained together. 

With the unoccupied hand he brought it down on Matt’s forearm, pushing the bent appendage towards the man. Then, he jumped and brought his leg on Matt’s chest, using the momentum to push himself above and behind him. But as he passed over his head, Tony grabbed onto his shoulders and pulled with all of his might, causing Matt to crash on the ground while Tony stood over him, triumphantly.

Matt laid there for a few seconds, just breathing through his mouth in stunness. Tony was about to feel bad and help the man out, when a small smile spread across his face. It lingered for a few seconds, before a small chuckle wracked his body, shaking it with the suddenness of the movement. But despite the fact that he couldn’t see with his eyes, he still managed to flicker his sight upwards and straight into Tony’s, a sort of blissful happiness simmering very quietly in the background.

Tony’s heart raced for a completely different reason, then. 

He offered his own smile in response, glad to see the physical difference just play fighting with someone had on the man. It was then, he decided, that he’d gladly get pummeled into the ground and thrown back up and into the heavens a million times over if he could see the smile on Matt’s face once more.

“No more free shots,” Tony told him with a pointed finger. “I know for a fact that you made your breathing and steps heavier so that I could find you.” 

Matt continued looking at him from on the ground, form barely visible in the darkness. “Figured you needed some help.”

And just like that, they were back. Matt shot up like a missile, body falling back into the rhythm he so carefully developed over the years. Tony did the same, dodging the first fist that was thrown his way.

Time didn’t matter to them. They could’ve been fighting for minutes or hours, neither knew. They swung like their lives depended on it, barely stopping to give the other a break. 

Matt took lead in the dance, and Tony willingly followed. If he threw a punch, Tony ducked. When Tony went to knock him down, Matt was already jumping back with his own retaliation. 

They jumped and turned and swung in tandem with each other, flying and swinging all around Fogwell’s Gym. They bounced around the punching bag, used the ropes of the ring to their advantage. 

It felt like they had been doing this together for years. Yet, of course, even with no knowledge previously, they knew they hadn’t. This was the first time they paved the lines together in discovering each fighting technique the other preferred to execute.

Yet, when it was all said and done, Tony had more welts and bruises on his body than Matt did. Of course he did, because he was going toe to toe with possibly the greatest ninja of all time. But with each grunt he pulled from Matt’s lips, Tony felt satisfied. The Devil fought like it was the most natural thing to him, even more so than breathing. His eyes were closed and a small smile was on his lips, so miniscule that Tony could hardly see it. Every maneuver, every beaten taken, it was all calculated and predicted. Just as every thing he did was unpredictable to Tony. 

There was only really one time that Matt slipped up.

Tony went to knock his punch back, when Matt suddenly gasped and halted mid motion. Tony, unable to pull back quick enough, twisted his fist to the side to miss Matt’s head by a few hairs. The momentum sent him sailing forward, crashing into Matt, who stumbled back and fell against the wall. 

From the position, Matt was caged between Tony’s arms. He had his eyes open, flickering all around the other mans face. As if he were actually seeing the details. The hand that could’ve possibly given Matt a concussion was spread out above his head, touching the cool concrete of the wall. 

  
“Are you okay?” Tony rushed to ask, not caring about the awkward predicament they were put in. No, he was more worried about why Matt had suddenly froze up to cause this to happen. He scanned Matt’s body for any possible reasoning, but came up with nothing to be considered out of the ordinary.

Matt took a few deep breaths, before holding it. 

His senses were  _ screaming  _ at him. Touch, smell, every single one except sight.

Tony and his body heat, radiating like a furnace with the extraneous motions they were performing just seconds prior. The way the waves of vibrations flowed through the small space between them, licking at Matt’s overly sensitive skin. His gaze, dancing and darting around his body sending sparks with each point of contact. The very faint glow from his arc reactor, to which Matt had to assume was turned imperceptibly low. 

The taste in the air. The natural scent that exuded from his pores, covered by an expensive cologne that had long been washed off with sweat. Every time Tony opened his mouth, coffee and blueberries plagued Matt’s nose. Fresh strawberries, as well. Out of everything it could’ve been, the smell was weirdly pleasant. Every time Matt swallowed, he swore he could taste the same thing Tony had for breakfast and lunch that day.

Tony’s heartbeat. Fast, erratic. Scared. Worried.  _ Worried for me _ ? Either way, the beating was dulled out. Hardly there. Definitely quieter than anyone else's. The natural soothing sound was washed out by the hum of the reactor on his chest, emitting in a low enough frequency so that it didn’t seem bothersome. The way blood rushed through his veins, his brain. His hands. Everywhere. 

But,  _ God.  _

Usually, Matt didn’t appreciate the way people smelt. Which was an odd thing to say all in its own, but with his enhanced senses, he could quite literally tell the last time someone had washed their hands. To an extent, he could say that he hated his heightened smell the most. 

But Tony?

Tony smelt of oil, metal, blueberries and an ocean that Matt couldn’t pinpoint. Smells that really shouldn’t mix, but at the same time, smelt so perfect to his nose. He took another breath, just to inhale some more, and found that he really didn’t  _ mind  _ his scent. It wasn’t bothersome, even the sweat that trickled down Tony’s body. Matt’s nose didn’t want to inwardly curl in on itself, or even just remain unbothered. No, his treacherous facial part wanted him to lean closer, right in the juncture of Tony’s neck and shoulder, and just rest there. In fact, he realized, that was what his mind wanted to do, as well.

Matt’s eyes widened once he realized what was happening to him.

_ Good boys don’t do bad things,  _ a nun had once told him.  _ Bad things, such as lust over another man. He who does, will be forever damned in the depths of Hell for disrupting the natural process of life.  _

He wondered what that nun would say now, if she saw him. Probably question him on how he was supposed to dedicate his life to God after this.

… His head hurt.

Tony was still talking, he was sure. Faintly, he could feel the vibrations of his words hitting his skin. His hands were gone now, away from his body. No longer caging him. 

The scent that he carried still lingered.

Matt brought a hand up slowly, touching his face. Making sure he didn’t spontaneously combust into flames for having a singular thought over a man. Then, he brought it to run through his hair. Hair that was sweaty and gross and probably sticking up in different directions. Just to remind himself that his head was still here, on his shoulders, so he should really be thinking rationally right about now.

He took a deep breath and ignored the smell of blueberries. Focused on the alleyway next to the building and the filled trash can that suspiciously had a raccoon hidden in it. A raccoon who was tiny, shivering, and mewed like a--

Wait.

Like a building falling on top of him, Matt felt as everything righted within him. He couldn’t see, but everything was perfectly clear to him. 

“--llo? Matt? What the fuck?” Tony zoned back through, two seconds away from running across the room and grabbing his phone. Matt licked his lips, nodding slowly. “I’m okay,” he told him with a slight blush spreading across his face. “I’m okay.”

Tony sighed, heart rate starting to slow down. “Oh, thank God,-” Matt internally winced at the word choice, cocking his head to the side to listen outside, “-I thought I hit you too hard or something. What happened, anyways? That was-- hello? Matt? Are you even paying attention?”   
  
Paying attention, he was not. Instead, he was listening to the three small heartbeats that echoed from outside. Trapped in a small space, bouncing around. Shivering from hunger, scared? Terrified. They were terrified.

“We have to rescue them,” Matt said in a quiet gasp. He leaned off of the wall, taking steps towards his gym bag with all of his stuff. “Hey, what? The fuck? Save? Save who?” Tony tried following him, undoubtedly spotting Matt’s shaky legs. The devil didn’t care, though. Instead he threw a towel at Tony, snatching his loose jacket off of the bench and zipping it up with minimal trouble.

Tony couldn’t remember the last time he felt so confused. Maybe when he first woke up discombobulated on Matt’s couch. If any time, that would be it. But he still grabbed the flying towel, looking at it before looking back at Matt.

Matt, who was scrambling out the door.

“He- wh- Murdock!” Tony squawked, rushing out after the man. When he got outside, he whipped his head left and right, barely catching movement rushing into the alleyway next to the building. He didn’t even pause to consider if it were Matt or not, instead rushing after and taking the sharp turn.

And he was greeted with the sight of Matt crouching. Straight in front of the dumpster.

The  _ filled to the brim  _ dumpster.

Tony pushed his sleeve over his hand to cover the smell that trampled his nose. He knew for a fact it was so much worse for Matt.

But the man in front of him paid him to attention, crouched and tilting his head to the side. Doing his signature ‘oh hey, I hear something but don’t want to pick it out like a normal blind man!’ movement.

Tony opened his mouth, about to question what the hell kind of drugs Matt managed to take, before Matt cut him off.

“Shh.”

… Tony was shocked.

He could count the amount of times in his life he’d been shushed. And those times were exactly twice. Once, when Peter did it to him. Now, Matt. Both in the span of the year.

Why the hell did he keep the last name Stark if it didn’t voice enough power for people to cower instead of  _ shush  _ him?

Tony inhaled, begging whatever God was out there that his nose would survive the trip down the alley, and took the first few steps to Matt.

The man had gotten on his knees, now, still in front of the dumpster. His hand was under it as well, like a heathen. Tony wanted to tell him as much, until he heard it.

Very quietly. Almost imperceptible.

A tiny mew.

_ Ah, fuck.  _

At some point within the two seconds it took Tony to realize what was going on, Matt managed to procure a spoon and fork out of mid air. Probably from the clutter around the dumpster, or from a meal that had been stored in Matt’s bag previously. Tony sighed, getting down on the grimy floor next to the man, before plucking the spoon out of his hand and using it as a lure for whatever kitten was down there.

“Here, kitty kitty…” He called out like a creeper, rolling his eyes at Matt’s eye roll. “They’re scared, they won’t respond to catcalls,” he told him, using the fork to click on the ground every few seconds. “Just follow my movements.”

Tony had a few choice words for the man next to him. Most in varying terms of ‘what’ and ‘the’ and ‘fuck.’ But still, he decided to listen. There was a soft spot in his heart for small furballs, apparently a common trait between the two of them. 

Matt clicked his tongue, took a few seconds, and then tapped the fork on the ground twice. Then paused once more, hit it very gently against the dumpster, before repeating the sequence. A part of Tony wondered if there was some logic to the movements. Or if Matt was just being a crackhead. Either were applicable.

He got his answer a few seconds later when a small kitten stuck its head out from under the dumpster, eyes barely open. Or, really, what Tony hoped was a kitten. All he could discern from the orange and white furball were the forest green orbs, color seeming black in the darkness of the night. 

A shy smile spread across Matt’s face as he sensed the cat, fingers gently and slowly moving in front of it. Tony sat there amazed as the kitten turned its small head, sniffing the air in a manner that he saw Daredevil doing once or twice. Then, on fragile legs that couldn’t even hold the body, the small thing army crawled from under the filthy dumpster.

When it’s neck was far enough, Matt moved his hand and grabbed the mewling kitten, quickly bringing it to his chest despite the grime that clung to its fur. “Shh, shh,” he hushed the small creature, as if it’d actually calm it down. Tony noticed the lack of a tail, or rather lack of tail length, on the small fucker, and tried to run through all the different cat breeds he knew.

With the kitten resting above Matt’s chest, the meows actually seemed to calm down, much to Tony’s chagrin. The man holding it continued to bounce the critter up and down very gently, barely moving it from its position. The hand not occupied with holding it-- because the cat was small enough to be held in one hand,  _ jesus fuck--  _ came up to scratch behind its ears. 

It was hard to tell exactly what colors made up the fluffiness that bathed  [ the cat ](http://www.friemothfamilycats.com/Awards/Butters.jpg) , but Tony could make out the general feel. The little white cat had a tiny, honey orange spot on the side of its tummy, as well as a patch that started on its head and bled into a sea of marshmallow fur before it became prominent once more, crawling from its back to its bobtail.

_ A Japanese bobtail. What the fuck? _ __   
  


Tony knew a lot of things. And one of those many things were the fact that Japanese bobtails were rare and not native to Hell’s Kitchen. Or New York. Or even America. 

He also knew that Matt looked absolutely enthralled with the little creature. His sightless eyes were on the small lump in his hands, jacket sleeves soothing over its fur in an attempt to keep it warm. Never before had Tony seen a man look so content and lovingly at something that wasn’t his own creation. 

Tony felt his heart beat a little faster at the show of vulnerability. 

But then Matt was moving the cat away from his chest, pushing him towards Tony. “Here,” he said, looking at Tony with as much sincerity as possible. “There’s more under there, and they’re all starving and cold. Hold onto her while I get the others.”

Huh, so it was a girl. Helpful note for Tony in referring to the fuzzball. 

Still, he spluttered, gesturing to his reactor. “Little kitten won’t appreciate this, I promise. Just… Set her in your jacket pocket or something.” Matt looked wounded at this, expressive eyes shooting daggers through Tony and making him realize why exactly he kept those blood red glasses on all the damn time. 

“You’re warm. So is your reactor. Just… Put her next to it. It’ll comfort her, I promise.”

When it was said that way, Tony couldn’t help but sigh and grab the kitten from Matt’s sleeved hands, fingers twitching when they made contact with the fabric. During the trade, the furby started meowing once more. 

Making quick work, Tony adjusted the cat so that its head would be resting against the side of his reactor, with its ear pointed where his heart was. Just as Matt had done. “Hey, little one,” Tony found himself near whispering, looking down and rubbing his fingers gently over the kittens matted fur. 

Matt looked at him with a small fond smile, before turning and grabbing the fork to once more repeat the motions that lured the cat out. 

Tony cuddled the cat to his chest, making sure that she was kept purring while she waited on her comrades. He was successful so far, a small part of him cheering over the fact that he knew how to keep the cat calm, just as its previous holder had. 

This cat took longer to come out. Less trustworthy, or just curious as to where the fuzzy ball of supposive warmth went. But when it popped its head out just as its counter part had, it took everything in Tony not to drop his jaw and recoil in disgust.

Because, to him,  [ this cat ](https://www.catster.com/wp-content/uploads/2018/01/Singapura-2.jpg) looked absolutely  _ stupid. _

Granted, all Tony could see was its face. But its face was enough. Small head with big ears and even bigger eyes. The only saving grace were the fact that its little baby eyes were a greyish green, with rims of hazelnut at the edges. 

Matt didn’t care, though. He gave it the same treatment as the one before it. Small huff of laughter, a dazzlingly shy smile, and gentle movements.

When he pulled it out and held it to his chest, the cat didn’t meow. Instead, it curled into the warmth that Matt was exuding. 

Its body was stocky and muscular, while its neck was short and thick. Heavily muscled legs tapered to small, short, oval feet. At his end, a long-- or short, really, but judging by the little one in his hands, long-- tail is short and slender with a dark tip. It was hard to tell what color the cat really was-- a bone marrow type of color or just a light grey--, but the thing Tony could definitely spot were the patterns that decorated its face. These, he could tell, were a light brown.

Tony vaguely remembered that description being explained to him about Mama Rhodey’s cat. It took him a few seconds to remember exactly what kind of cat it was, but soon he remembered. 

_ “One of the most personable breeds,”  _ Rhodey once told him. “ _ Perfect for ma. This little Singapura is about to make so many lives easier.” _

“Matt..” Tony tried telling him. But Matt didn’t seem to be paying attention to him. Rather, the small bundle in his hand. Once more, the kitten was small enough that it could only fit in his palm, but due to its short hair, it was much more obvious that the reason wasn’t only because of how young it was-- rather, how malnourished it was.

“They’re kittens,” Matt said in a whisper. The love in his voice almost knocked Tony to the floor. But, of course, it didn’t. All it did was send another wave of  _ something  _ flooding through his senses.

But the cat looked stupid.

And Tony was gonna make sure the blind man knew that.

“It’s ugly.”

Matt snapped up at that, eyes somehow connecting with Tony’s to perfectly portray how scandalized he felt. “Tony!”

  
  


… Truly, Matt addressing him by name for the first time should’ve been nothing. It  _ was  _ his name, after all. But for some reason it sent his body reeling, shivers dancing up and down his spine. His throat felt small and dry, so he swallowed to try to keep the sensation at bay.  _ Never lovers, eh? _

He must’ve taken too long to respond, because once more Matt was passing him the cat. Just like last time, Tony hesitated, albeit for different reasons. “I don’t want that rat touching me.”

Matt paused, bringing the small critter closer to him. Cocked his head, like he was listening. Sniffed the air, and then shrugged. “He’s definitely a cat, not a rat.” 

They’d barely started the jest, but Tony was already tired of it. He sighed, acquiescing to Matt’s silent demand. “Fine, bring the fucker here.”

Matt beamed once more, passing the cat towards Tony, who was currently going to a crisis of a heart attack with how fast his heart rate changed every time the other man smiled at him like  _ that. _

_ _ Luckily, when Matt picked up the fork, he didn’t have to complete the tapping procedure. No, instead, the fork was taken by a pair of small teeth when he went to tap at the dumpster. Shocked, all Matt could do was let go as the Creature Under the Dumpster stole the utensil. 

Tony laughed at Matt’s expression.

Matt didn’t find it particularly amusing. But even with his grumpy face, there was a touch of a smile on his face.

He changed his posture so that he wasn’t resting on his knees, instead sitting with his legs criss crossed on the ground. Then, he reached over and grabbed the spoon, deciding to continue the procedure to get the mewling kitten from under the disgusting green thing above it.

Briefly, Tony realized how ridiculous they looked to anyone who would’ve passed by. Two full grown men at the front of a disgusting dumpster at the back of an alley, one covered in kittens and the other tapping a spoon on the floor.

Whoo boy, was he glad that reporters didn’t lurk around three AM.

This time, rather than keep the utensil close to the garbage, Matt kept it a small distance away. Luckily this was proven effective when not one, but  _ two  _ kitten heads reared their way out. 

And if Tony thought the second cat looked weird.

Man.

_ Man.  _

The [ first cat ](http://ltch-cattery.com/show/show_108.jpg) looked like he got his face smashed in. Like someone slammed open a door, and he was on the wrong side. His-- because Tony feels slightly bad when calling the animals ‘it’-- eyes were big, brown, and round. Just like the first kitten, he was incredibly fluffy with a few spots of orange. Or what Tony hoped was orange. The difference between the two, however, was the mysterious possible color outweighed the white that coated its body. That, and the animal looked like a pure fluffball from head to tail. Every bit. But what the kicker was, the part that got Tony, was the fact that it through his orange face, the little menace had a white mustache that drooped. 

The other, though. 

The only way Tony could describe him was  _ absolutely, horrendously, stupid.  _

His body was shaped all angles, with tall ears and a surprisingly glossy coat. Short hair, but a long nose. A big nose.  [ A huge fucking honker ](https://enacademic.com/pictures/enwiki/70/Flame_Point_Siamese.JPG) . Long whiskers, and admittedly gorgeous blue eyes. Every movement so far had been more of a twitch, not really as fluid as the other three. 

The part that kind of unnerved Tony was the fact his face looked like it belonged to a much older, much wiser cat. In a way, it reminded him of whenever he’d hear a baby with the name Robert. Or Bob. Something old. It just wasn’t right. 

Regardless, Matt still grabbed the two and held them as if he had done so his entire life. Tony hoped that there were no more animals hidden under the trash can, if nothing more than so that Matt could take the furballs out of his hands.

Tony looked down at his two, heart thumping just a tad faster at the sight of the first one still fast asleep, purring and leaning into his gentle caresses that he didn’t even realize he had continued. The other one, the one Mama Rhodey had once had, was looking at Tony with his big eyes. Questioning. But despite the fear that the stupid kitten held, his tail was still relaxed. Mouth still blissfully closed, only emitting a very quiet purr. 

“Hey, little guys,” Matt broke the silence, somehow silencing the two kittens in his hands.  _ Cat whisperer. Who knew. _

Tony felt a smile twitch on his face at the absurdity of the situation. From tracking Matt down to Fogwells, to challenging him-- and, admittedly, hoping to win-- only to get his ass practically handed to him with a devilish smile. To having Matt freeze up like he just saw ( _ smelt? _ ) a ghost, to him running out and grabbing a spoon and fork and somehow luring four kittens out.

Four kittens who only managed to look slightly pleasurable. But mainly eyesores.

“I’m gonna take them home.”

Tony’s smile dropped.

“No, you aren’t.”

Matt lifted his head, sticking his chin out defiantly. “Yes, I am.”

“Murdock, I swear to God if you bring these cats--”

“Into  _ my  _ home? What, you’ll take them away? From  _ my own  _ property?”

… Silence. 

“Yeah, that’s what I fucking thought.”

The squint in Matt’s clouded brown eyes did nothing to diminish the gleam that made it to the surface, a victory plain and clear even to him.  _ Damn him,  _ Tony thought in faux bitterness,  _ him and his lawyer logic. _

(Tony chose not to think about how it was basic logic. After all, he didn’t live with Matt. Wasn’t important to him like that. He had no jurisdiction over what happened under that roof.)

(Why did a part of his heart still at those thoughts?)

The kitten with the door slammed face mewed, drawing Matt’s attention. He looked down, or rather tilted his head downwards, before doing the listening gesture. A few seconds later, his soft ass smile came back. The one that somehow gave Tony’s heart permission to join a tap dancing class. “He’s hungry, they all are.”

For some reason, Tony thought of Pepper. Perhaps it was just the way his heart had been out of circuits ever since he stepped foot into Hell’s Kitchen for the night. Or the way he was seemingly focused on Matt. His face, his hair, his smile. Maybe it reminded him of what they had, long before the suits came and whisked him away. Before sensibility crashed into her.

It was a little odd. And of course, Tony didn’t want to think of Pepper when he was staring at Matt, who happened to be letting one of the kittens munch on his finger. He cleared his throat, rolling his eyes even though the gesture was useless. “Congratulations, Doc Martin. What’s next, they’re all kittens? Are obviously not related to each other? Shouldn’t even be in Hell’s Kitchen, or even this part of the world?”   
  
The smile on Matt’s face dropped at Tony’s sarcastic nature, instead his regular closed off expression taking light once more. A part of Tony regretted it, but. Y’know. Too late to take back his words. 

Wordlessly, Matt uncrossed his legs and pushed himself up, despite both of his hands never leaving the spot close to his chest where two of the four kittens lay. Then, he managed to transfer both little furries into one hand, bending over quickly to grab his duffle bag filled with all of his stuff. Tony shot up as well, albeit with less grace. And more time. Once he rose, he opened his mouth to question what was happening, before Matt cut him off. “Give me the kittens.”

Tony’s mouth closed, suddenly feeling like he’d been impaled by the walls set around the man. “Um, no?” Matt raised an eyebrow at this, usually light filled eyes now darkened with heavy emotions. “I thought we were bringing them back to your place.”

“Yeah. I’m bringing them back to my place. You’re going wherever else.” By then, Matt had managed to grab his red glasses from a pouch in his bag, shielding his eyes from view. A defense mechanism. One that Tony was all too familiar with.

A part of him was upset. After all, it seemed that him and Matt made a bit of progress in their relationship over the whole fighting-and-then-saving-kittens situation. But now? Now they were back at square one, where Tony had questions that could be answered but just weren’t. And he knew, reasonably, that he was at fault for the demeanor shift in Matt. But at the same time, being sarcastic has always been who Tony is. With such a visceral reaction, it kind of seemed like Matt had never experienced it.

… And then it hit him. 

Before this, the only experience the two had together that they could remember was spent with Tony pointing a gauntlet at the man in his own home, keeping him away from Peter. Matt had nothing to base Tony off of, other than what had happened over the course of the past few hours. And so far, Tony has pushed the man when he wanted to be left alone, trapped him when he wanted to be free, had been a pessimist when he had tried to be an optimist, and then had been sarcastic about the gentle observation that was made more for himself than for Tony.

Tony blinked, and suddenly he felt the weight of a few worlds rest on his shoulders. 

“Matt--” he went to go apologize. But the plea fell on deaf ears as Matt brushed past him, muttering a simple “save it.”

He didn’t even grab his cane out of his bag to keep up the blind act when he walked out of the alleyway, turning to the right to make the trek home. The kitten that had its head laying on Tony’s reactor took those few seconds to look up at him with doe eyes, mewling very quietly before turning to where Matt had walked off.

“Yeah, yeah. I know. I fucked up,” he told the cat. The other began to rustle in his other hand, shuffling before finding a warm spot in the palm of his hand. Tony sighed, and took the first few steps to follow after Murdock. 

Luckily, even though the man was reasonably grumpy at Tony, he took slow strides so that it was easier to catch up. Tony only knew this, because when he eventually matched footsteps next to him, Matt picked up his pace. 

He hoped that wasn’t the inadvertent way to pushing him away. 

They were silent for a few moments. Just walking down the surprisingly quiet streets of Hell’s Kitchen, only a passing car or two filling the void. It  _ was  _ late, but it was also New York, afterall. Matt was doing a shockingly good job at blending in as a sighted person, but at the same time, he had quirks that Tony wouldn’t even be able to pinpoint if he didn’t know better.

For instance.

Matt tended to keep his head down, in the case someone walked by and saw his eyes. But at the same time, when they did so happen to pass by a New Yorker, he would always confidently lift his head up and ‘look around,’ even going so far as to look at them and then advert his gaze, such as they were to him. 

He’d also pause, just momentarily. A barely there thing, and not really something that threw off their rhythmic stepping. Just more of a stop to his torso while his legs continued. Like he wanted to go somewhere, do something, but he reminded himself that he had a prior destination that needed to be met. 

All in all, it was fascinating.

Matt was fascinating.

Tony wanted to be closer to him, to study him. Or not really study, but more-so figure out more of his ticks. See what else he was capable of doing and what was truly inaccessible to him. So far, all Tony had was screens. Everything else, Matt was able to work around.

Tony brushed past a piece of garbage on the floor, taking a left when Matt prompted him to.

Eventually, the silence grew for longer than what seemed necessary. Tony was still mulling over what he had said, and he could only assume by the thin line of Murdock’s lips that the man was doing the same.

So, Tony decided to take initiative and start a conversation.

… Except every time he opened his mouth, he felt stupid.

Did he apologize for his behavior? Ask about how Matt was planning on changing the litter box with all four kittens? Actually, ask about his plans with the four little rascals? Did he ask questions about why he allowed Tony to follow him back there? 

Shockingly, Matt was the first to speak. “I’m sorry for snapping at you.” 

Tony’s heart stuttered and he almost tripped, but he managed to keep everything together. “What do you mean? I should be the one apologizing, I was the dick.”

Murdock refused to look at him, only looking straight forward. Like he could see in front of him, see where he was going. “I… Yeah, you were,” a small smile spread across his face while Tony chuckled. “But still, that didn’t give me permission to retaliate.”

His words struck a chord with Tony, in all honesty. It took everything in him not to smile like an idiot with the warm and fuzzy feeling that blossomed in his chest. 

Tony had been yelled at a lot in his lifetime. From the first memory he had with him father, all the way to shouting at politicians about opposing hero sides. Even with his fake brash personality that he saves especially for the media, Tony couldn’t for the life of him remember the last time someone apologized for being shoved by his words. They’d raise their voices, their eyebrows and mouths, and sometimes even their hands. But never would they raise their respect bar as much as Matt had just done with Tony.

Truthfully, he was speechless. 

It seemed that Matt picked up on this fact, too, because he remained quiet at Tony’s side as he ruminated on the act of kindness, however small. However, his lips were once more pressed together. 

Tony shuffled a kitten to the side, checking his watch to see that it was a quarter past four. He was fairly certain they both had to be up in the morning for work related business.

Abruptly, Matt stopped in the middle of his step, careening his head to the side. Tony walked a few more steps oblivious to his partners possum interpretation. It was only when he realized his footsteps somehow seemed lighter did he turn around and spot Murdock.

His head was turned to the side, unnaturally still. Everything in him was tense. His shoulders, his spine, his legs. Unconsciously, or perhaps subconsciously, he fell into a perfect boxer formation, one that Tony knew could send some professionals weeping. His hands were still pulled up to his chest, holding the kittens, who somehow sensed Matt’s new formation and were all awake and looking around.

Then, just like nothing happened, Matt closed his eyes. Forced himself to leave the position he slipped into, and took a quiet but shaky exhale. 

He continued walking, but never lost the stiffness.

Weirdly enough, Tony knew it wasn’t something to question. Perhaps with his hearing, there was something Daredevil worthy he picked up on. That’d make sense as to the sudden and abrupt change, but it wouldn’t make sense as to why he continued on the walk home. From what Tony could gather in the small space of time he had to pick up information about Daredevil, he wasn’t the type to back off. Or even the type to run away.

Yet it didn’t feel like Matt was doing either of those things.

The trip back for the rest of the time was silent, spent with Matt having his head lowered and Tony sneaking concerned glances every now and then in his direction. It wasn’t until a little before five before they got to Matt’s apartment.

When they got to the door, Matt held up his hand in pause. Listened in-- presumably to check on Peter-- before moving his hand in front of his face, holding his pointer up in front of his lips in the universal sign of ‘shut up.’ Then, he transferred both kittens into one hand so that he could dig in his bag and grab a key, very quietly unlocking and then opening the door. 

When Matt walked in, his footsteps were completely silent. Tony only felt a little insubordinate when he took his first step and heard the resounding thunk of his shoe.

Even though it was dark in the entry way, the living room was painted in a dull blue due to the billboard being stuck on the broken signal screen. The light bounced around the space, coloring everything in an almost ethereal light. Oddly enough, Tony felt himself relaxing at the sight. 

Tony walked up and brought the two kittens he had to the couch, carefully depositing them so that they were next to each other. They both opened their eyes for a few seconds, spotted each other, and then promptly cuddled some more and fell asleep. Matt did the same with his two, all four now creating a huge cuddle pile.

A sense of loneliness tried to tug at Tony as he thought about the last time he cuddled with someone. Held them in his arms, or even had the comfort of a body behind his.

He shuddered and crossed his arms over his chest, refusing to compare himself to some ugly kittens.

Out of the corner of his eye, Tony saw Matt turn his head and then start to smile. More of a twitch of his lips, but definitely bigger than its been in a while. 

Tony followed his line of sight, and let out a huff of laughter.

There, in the corner of the room, had Peter’s desk with his laptop. All around it were papers and sticky notes, little pieces of colored paper cluttering the space and making it look like a wreck. Pens and pencils were scattered around the surface, a few trinkled on the ground. Everything was disorderly and a mess, yet still perfectly manageable. 

Then, of course, there was Peter.

Peter, who was wearing one of Matt’s dark blue Columbia hoodies that ate up his hands and made him look much younger than his actual age. On his legs were some of Tony’s sweats that he loaned the teen ages ago, when he showed up at the compound with a ripped suit and no spare clothing.

His head was turned towards the wall, giving the duo a shot of the back of his head where his curls lay dormant. Much to their pleasure, his hair was sticking up in all odd directions, a sense that Pete had been running his fingers through the brown locks clouding Tony and Matt’s mind. Very gentle snores were coming from his mouth, pieces of paper sticking to his face and gently brushing away with every exhale.

The screen for the laptop was still on. Articles were pulled up for any sightings of Daredevil or Iron Man for the night. 

Warmness flooded through Tony’s veins, blossoming into a fatherly pride at the teenager who was currently clonked out. Matt must’ve been the same way, because he abandoned the kittens in order to gently move Peter away from the papers, doing his best to pick him up with minimal chances of wakefulness.

Matt was successful, for the most part. He was able to get the teen to curl his head in the juncture of his neck while holding his body by the back of his legs and around his back.

But then the mustache cat meowed,  _ very  _ loudly.

Tony turned to the ball of fuckery, unable to comprehend how such a big noise came from such a small animal. The resounding look he got back from said animal was enough to make his fingers curl in a faux threat.

Peter started shifting in Matt’s arms, face scrunching up. Matt, with all of his gracefulness, took it in stride and accommodated to the wiggles. Then, Peter started groaning about his back hurting, to which Matt frowned at before adjusting the teen to a position that was less stressful on him. Like magic, he settled once more in the embrace.

Inside, Tony was a little jealous at the way that Matt knew how to handle Peter so well. He knew that he didn’t have a right to feel that way. In fact, he should be feeling lucky that someone else could look out for him. But at the same time, it was the fact that Matt was blatantly  _ better _ at it. Better at caring for Peter than he was.

Really, it shouldn’t come as a shock. Peter lived with him, after all. 

Things change.

Matt went to drop the drowsy teen in his bed with the silk sheets, and Tony turned and headed to the kitchen to start rummaging for something possibly kitten friendly. Dully, he knew he wouldn’t find anything. What he would need would be formula, and nobody in their right mind would have that on a whim.

The four kittens continued to scooch around the couch, meowing louder and louder.

Luckily, the cat whisperer knew of his calling and hurried back, calming the animals down like the God he was. 

Tony continued to rummage through the drawers and cabinets, before stopping to shoot Matt a look of exasperation. “Any odd chance you’ve done this before and have leftover formula?” At that, Matt flushed just barely. He kept his head down, muttering “this is new for me, honestly,” before saying louder “the place two floors down has cats. Maybe they’ll have some extra. If not, I can go and get some.”

He brought his hands up to his face and brought them back down with his glasses in tow. The darkness outside cast a shadow over his eyes, one that only grew in size once he turned away from the blue light of the billboard that glowed through the glass. Gently, he sat down on the couch, bringing the kittens and placing them on his lap before stroking their hair. Never really resting his hands on them, just barely touching them with his fingertips. 

Tony blinked, and tried to ignore how domestic this all felt. Then, he responded with “might as well. I mean, they can’t exactly have Tony Stark show up at their door at ass ‘o clock asking for something they may or may not have.” He clapped his hands, energy flowing through him despite a night without rest. He got ready to settle in, before the thought occurred to him.

This wasn’t his place. Wasn’t his  _ home.  _ He shouldn’t be getting ready for anything, other than leaving. Technically, he wasn’t even invited in the first place. 

Somehow, maybe with his freaky senses, Matt must’ve known what he was thinking. He cocked his head in Tony’s direction, before a gentle frown creased the lower half of his face. “You can take my bed, you know. I’m sure Pete wouldn’t mind a cuddle buddy.” 

He continued grazing the fur of the kittens, not turning in Tony’s direction. Acting as if he hadn’t laid a little bomb on Tony. One that confused him, left him slightly disoriented, and even grateful and shy. 

Weird.

“Um, no,” Tony said in reply, shocking himself.  _ What the fuck am I doing?  _ Judging by the furrowing in Murdock’s eyebrows, he was shocked too. “I’ll take the couch. I’m not going to intrude in your space.”

Matt tilted his head, considering, before replying “I’ll be a bad host, then. The least I can do is offer that, or at least bring Peter to his own bed.”

At that, Tony glanced to the door under the stairs. From what he gathered, that was Matt’s training room. The one he’d go to when he couldn’t make the walk to Fogwell’s and for whatever reason felt like he needed to improve on his already flawless techniques. Slowly, it occurred to him, that he probably transformed the room to accommodate the other person living in the household. 

Tony didn’t realize that he never pinned Peter for having his own room. The thought was as unsettling as it was comforting.

“You know what?” He started, clapping his hands softly together in remembrance for the teen with super hearing resting in the next room over, “how about I go get the cat food? Undoubtedly, I have more money than you-- no offense, Mr. Pro Bono-- so it’d hurt my wallet less than yours.” Plus, it’d give Matt a chance to fall asleep anywhere that wasn’t the couch, so that Tony could claim the spot when he got back.

Matt made a motion to get up after his words, mouth open in what was no doubt a protest, before one of the kittens on his lap meowed and stretched itself out on his legs, before lounging and staying in place. A little bit of Tony warmed at the sight, a bigger part of him coo-ing at the flustered look on Matt’s face.

The man acquiesced, however, so that was a win in Tony’s book. “Go,” Matt told him, before adding in a quieter voice, “and be safe. A lot of people would stop and cause trouble at the sight of a billionaire walking the streets.”

Ignoring the way his heart started to race in that cheesy way it did when Pepper used to compliment his cologne, Tony headed for the door.

“Maybe they’d cause problems for billionaires. But they’d definitely think twice before trying to cause anything with Iron Man.”

_____

  
  


So.

Really, nobody caused a problem for Tony. Sure, he got ogled at by random pedestrians when he confidently parted through them like Moses in the Red Sea, and had the cashier only stutter a total of twelve times before accepting his money, but it wasn’t bad.

What caused a problem, though, was the rain.

He entered Matt’s home sopping wet, both arms full with bags of cat formula and squishy cat food. His shoes squelched with every step and his arc reactor fought valiantly to chase away the coldness that seeped through his bones. 

Fuck those cats and their need to eat. 

Actually, just fuck those cats.

Tony grumbled as his clothes stuck to his skin, eyelids heavy with the sudden tiredness that made itself known around the time he started walking away from the little corner store he stopped at. At the moment, he’d kill for some warm clothes and a warm blanket.

He left a trail throughout the hallway and half way to the kitchen. And then a bigger pile where he stood, gaping at Matt Murdock, who shot up off of the couch as soon as Tony entered the room.

It was clear the man was asleep before Tony came trudging through. From the way his unguarded eyes shot open and raked across the room, right before stopping and zeroing right on Tony. The cats that were resting on his chest all slithered off of his new black jacket, plopping into his lap with a startled meow. His chest heaved in fear, before he tilted his head and remembered that he had left his front door open for a guest. 

Tony watched the moment Matt untensed, the second he recognized who had made their way into his place. A part of him wondered why the man held so much fear, wondered the story behind the apprehension. Another part of him was worried to know.

“T’ny?” Matt asked, before coughing and clearing his throat. Tony sucked in a breath at his morning voice, feeling momentarily stunned at the bodily reaction. Then, he shivered and broke the spell. 

“Yep, it’s me!” He replied in false cheer, dumping the cat stuff on the island before turning and slapping his pants. “Don’t mind if I brought a few gallons of water with me, do you?”

Matt sniffed the air before shooting his eyebrows up, mouth forming in an ‘oh’ position. Then, he swung his legs over the couch and moved the kittens off, resting them on the floor next to his feet. “Did it.. Is it raining?” He asked, pushing himself off of the furniture and making his way to Tony. 

Stark felt his eyebrows in confusion, before realizing that Matt’s senses were probably still trying to chill out after waking up to an adrenaline rush less than a minute ago. He opened his mouth to answer, wincing only slightly as Matt barely stumbled across the floor. “Yep, a wonderful surprise from God himself. Or herself. Whatever your preference is.”

Matt stopped in front of him, hands reaching slowly for Tony’s shirt. He got about an inch away, before pausing, head tilting. Then, he pulled his hand away as if he’d been burned. About to question it, Tony opened his mouth. But before he could, Matt stopped him. “Sorry, that was weird. I’ll let you use my shower. Do you want to borrow some of my clothes?”

If Tony had a dollar for every time Matt started to do one of his quirky things, only to stop himself and then apologize right after, well… Tony’d still be a billionaire. But, you know. A better one. He smiled and was about to tell Murdock that, before a shiver racked its way up his spine and sent his upper body moving back and forth in rapid succession for a few seconds. He made a weird sound, before shaking his head. “Please.” 

While Matt staggered off into his room with rapidly improving precision, Tony went ahead and started mixing the kitten’s formula so that they’d be able to eat. Oddly, despite the wetness that clung to him like the plague, he felt at home. Domestic. Like he was meant to be here, doing this in Matt’s kitchen, with Peter asleep in the next room after a night filled with worrying and research.

Something in him told him what that meant.

(He ignored it.)

When Matt got back, Tony had finished shaking up the two bottles he purchased. In his hands were a pair of black socks, sweatpants, a sweater and a long sleeved shirt, and then most embarrassingly, a pair of boxers. The only salvation that got Tony through the offering without blushing was the fact that the boxers were still in their package, unused. 

He swallowed his awkwardness and nodded in thanks, before realizing what he did. He then narrated his previous actions, which drew a smile out of the sleepy Murdock in front of him, before trading the kitten food for the clothes.

  
  


Tony padded his way to the shower, taking off his shirt before he even reached the door. It wasn’t like he’d have an audience, anyways. Besides those damn cats. 

His shower was a brief one that had him more worried that Matt would question that he hadn’t cleaned himself properly. Yet the hot water that streamed down onto his back and cascaded down his legs felt too enticing for him to care. He grabbed the first body wash he saw, opening it and barely taking a whiff before lathering it on.

It was only after he washed it off, got through his hair, and was stepping out did he realize that he now smelt like Matt.

Tony changed quickly, mouth agape as he slid the silk boxers on. Silently, he made a promise to himself to change his undergarments when he got back to his place to match the feeling these had. How had he gone through his life before these?

When he stepped out, the first thing he saw was Matt. Matt, who was lounged back on the couch. His head was thrown back, all four kittens laying on his chest once more. He cradled them in his arms, both bottles hanging limply in his grasp as the two fluffiest ones drank at a slow pace.

  
  


He was completely zonked, stretched out and looking all too comfortable for a man at risk of having liquids pouring on him at any given second. But with each small breath that brushed his lips outwards ever so slightly, Tony found that he wanted nothing more than to curl up next to him and share the blissful moment.

Which, he knew, was weird. And of course, he wanted to yell at his nature for wanting to be close to people after being so touch starved. Honestly, for someone with the money to buy thousands of women to accompany him in bed, he shouldn’t feel the need to want to be there, specifically next to Matt, with those furballs in between them.

Tony sighed and wondered if Matt ever caught the way his heart raced at basic things, like it had been ever since he hopped out of the shower.

With cautious steps, he walked through the small space to reluctantly join Peter on the bed, silently cursing Murdock for winning that battle. Even more gently, he grabbed the sides of the door and slid it closed, taking a sigh of relief that he didn’t want the super hearing weirdo on the couch.

Only to turn around and see the other super hearing weirdo staring at him blearily, shifting and taking in the silk sheets he had been placed on. 

“T’ny?” Peter slurred, almost identically to the way Matt had when he first woke up. The comparison brought a smile to his face, moving with a little more sound now that Peter was already up. “Wha’ time issit?”

“Time for you to go back to sleep, Petey,” Tony responded kindly, rounding the corner of the bed to pull up the covers on the other side to slip in. 

And, really, the sound that came out of his mouth was borderline scary. But he couldn’t help it, the sheets felt  _ good.  _ Like he was defying gravity, while still being weighed down in all the right ways. Almost like there was nothing on him as he dropped the covers over him, yet still so deliciously warm and enticing in a way he couldn’t really describe as anything other than down right sinful.

The perks of enhanced touch, he guessed. One of the few ones that came with that specific power. Or, just Matt’s taste in fabric was impeccable. Either worked.

Peter, in all of his wonderful sleep induced haze, smiled weakly. As if he knew exactly what Tony was feeling, knew because he had a similar reaction once upon a time. It caused a short chuckle to erupt from Tony’s chest, a warm and fond look spreading over his chest as he closed his eyes. “Oh, shut it.”

His words fell of deaf ears, as the teenager had already clonked out once more. Tony ignored the way the sounds of the city slowly rose up with the sun outside, instead chasing after the same reprieve.    
  


For the first time in a long time, Tony fell asleep peacefully, wrapped in the silk sheets that carried the smell of Matt. 

  
  
  


_-⎊-_

“ _ Matt,”  _ Peter gasped.

The man in question had the nerve to look sheepish, holding the orange and white kitten with a mustache in one hand and the athletically built one in the other. Tony was still out in the next room, pillow held up against his chest with his head resting on his arms. 

Outside, the city was alive with clouds and a strong sense of rain. Off in the distance, thunder rumbled and cast a foreboding feeling for all occupants of the Kitchen. Of course, that didn’t stop businesses from closing. People still hurried with their daily tasks, hoping to get through everything and get safe before the rain hit once more. 

“Yes..?” Matt tried, moving his shoulders so that the other two kittens resting on them wouldn’t tumble down. 

When Peter woke up that morning, he most certainly didn’t think it’d be starting off face to face with Tony Stark. For a few blissful moments, his mind had been blank with the windows xp shut down sound clinging onto the edges of his memory. Then, thoughts came rushing in. Questions, mainly surfacing over what had happened the night previous with Matt.

And then came the thought of Matt, and how he wasn’t in the bed. And Peter was.

So the teen had shot up as quickly as he could, silk sheets ripping away from the clothes he passed out in. Distinctly, he remembered falling asleep leaning on the desk, trying to search up for more possible clues or hints that led back to the villain. That, or possible elements he could use to synthesize his own cure. And then when it became late enough to warrant worry (“2 AM,” Matt had told him one night. “When it’s past 2 AM and you haven’t heard word from me, call Karen. Or Foggy. Or even Tony, I don’t care.” Peter had only nodded, not wanting to say anything to the man who had gone missing for the better half of three days.) Peter remembered searching up articles for any appearances of Daredevil or Iron Man.

Peter stumbled out of the bed and almost face planted on the floor, only managing to evade potential disaster with his stickiness. Luckily, he didn’t wake Tony up. The man was still snoring very faintly, wrapped up in the sheets.

And that’s how he found Matt sitting on the couch, four cats around his body. 

“Where-- how-- what?” Peter couldn’t get a single question out, about seventy rushing to try to be asked first. One of the kittens meowed in response, a weak and kind of ugly meow.

Instantly, it had Peter’s heart in a choke hold.

Matt seemed to be at a loss for words, as well. As if when he thought it was a good idea to bring the four kittens home, he hadn’t considered the possibility of bringing them up to the other occupant of the house. He opened his mouth, hesitated, then licked his lips. Shifted his weight on one leg, then timidly asked “...Would you like to know their names?”

Four years of law school just to end up a dumbass.

Peter, though, didn’t hold it against him. His fingers were twitching with the need to pick up one of the fluffy balls and cuddle it for an eternity. The one with the short tail looked at him with its big eyes, and he knew he couldn’t resist. 

“You already named them?” Peter questioned as if feet shuffled forward on their own accord. Gingerly, he picked up one of the small creatures that had been left sleeping on the couch-- one with a big nose and even bigger blue eyes. The cat looked a little scandalized for being picked up while it was napping, but it quickly got over it once it realized that Peter was a source of warmth and love. 

“That one is Fork,” Matt told him in complete seriousness.

Peter froze, eyes slowly shifting towards Matt.

“.. His name is Fork.”

Matt blinked.

“Yep.”

“... Fork…”

“And that one is Spoons.”

He tilted his head towards the kitten in his right hand, the other short haired feline in the group. It tilted its owlish eyes towards Peter as if asking for a challenge. Then, the little fighter meowed at him and cuddled even further in Matt’s palm. 

Words seemed to elude Peter as he stared at the man in front of him. Behind him, he heard shuffling and a quiet yawn. Then, a few seconds later, the groggy voice of Tony. “Oh for fucks sake, I thought I dreamt those furballs.”

Matt blinked and then smiled brightly at Tony’s entrance, instantly going up to him and passing him a kitten, then running off to make a bottle of formula. “Nope, they’re still very much here.” 

While the blind man moved flawlessly through his kitchen, moving pots and pans around to look for something specific, Tony walked past a still stunned Peter with a grunt that was meant as a ‘good morning.’ He jumped on the counter without using his hands-- the patterned kitten still adjusting in the new hold-- and shuffled his way backwards, swinging his legs back and forth as Matt bumbled around him. 

Tony yawned and closed his eyes, leaning forwards where Matt had somehow popped up. Then, right in front of Peter’s eyes, he put his head on Matt’s shoulder.

And Matt.

Matt allowed it.

  
He tensed up very slightly, of course, but all he did was turn slightly so that he was facing the empty space next to Tony and dumped all of the stuff down, filling up a bottle with some warm water. 

Peter was floored.

There, in front of him, were the two most stubborn men Peter had ever known-- and that’s including himself who once refused to eat Matt’s cooking for a solid week and a half because he was convinced blind people didn’t know how to make stuff properly, and Foggy Nelson, the man who managed to bully Matt and Peter both into taking breaks out of their costumes for a mandatory ‘family hang out’ once every week. 

And yet, the two were literally using each other as crutches, relying on the other. 

Tony, who was notorious for being the lone wolf in a group of heroes. Who preferred to do things by himself, who refused any helpful tips from other people. Tony who pushed Peter away because he was worried that he’d corrupt him and ruin everything.

Matt, who had secluded himself for longer than deemed socially acceptable. Who refused help, who went off the grid in all the ways except physically. Who had lost everyone and who had walls as big as Texas. Matt who refused to let anyone in, except Peter, Foggy, and Karen. 

… Peter was starting to realize they had more in common than he thought.

Regardless, the sight of the domesticity taking place in the kitchen was enough to kick his vocal chords into gear once more. “Did I…” He gestured to the two, knowing that Matt would be able to sense it. “Did I miss something?”

“Yeah, you missed a lot,” Tony answered, missing the gesture. “Like your good ol’ pal over here rescuing four cats that have no business being in America. And then a billionaire getting soaked in the rain to get essentials for them, like the kind and benevolent person he is.”

Matt rolled his eyes, closing the cap on the bottle and putting it in Tony’s hands. “ _ We  _ saved the kittens. Now, can you bring me Spinach and Nugget?”

Tony and Peter froze.

There was dead fucking silence in the room.

Then, “ _ Spinch?”  _

Peter’s voice sounded watery and wobbly, instantly going up to the short tailed kitten still on the couch. “ _ Spinch…”  _ He said once more, a tentative smile spreading on his face. The kitten looked up at him with her wonderful eyes, seeming to perk up at the name. Gently, Peter picked up the kitten and cuddled it to his chest, making soft cooing noises. When she started to purr, Peter looked up with complete adoration.

To see a scandalized looking Tony flicking his gaze between Matt, Peter, and the two kittens.

“I’m sorry, you named them  _ what?”  _ He asked, pointing towards Spinach and Nugget. Matt sniffed and rubbed under his nose, shifting his weight. 

“Spinach and Nugget. The other two are named Spoons and Fork.” 

Tony looked like someone had taken his favorite Iron Man suit and shit on it. He hopped off the counter and went to the couch, picking up the kitten with a squished face. “... Nugget…” 

Peter looked up at him, eyes going even wider. “ _ Nuggs…”  _

He received a scathing look in reply, but it didn’t matter. Matt was back to beaming, looking happier than he had in months. Between the kitten in his hand, the two in Tony’s, and the last in Peter’s, everyone seemed to have a smile. Except, you know, Tony. 

“What the fuck kind of names are those? Why couldn’t…” He looked at Matt, and then sighed a pitiful sigh. “Because you’re not normal, of course.” 

Peter noticed the way his heart rate picked up, and then the way Matt’s responded in kind. Matt was looking at Tony’s face, just a little below his nose, while Tony was looking at his sightless eyes. Then they both chuckled very faintly, a small symphony that had the cats purring.

  
Weirdly enough, it felt like he was intruding on a moment. Or that he wasn’t there, like those two were the only in the apartment.

....  _ What the fuck had Peter missed?  _

Peter smiled with them, laughing awkwardly just to feel included. The feeling that coursed through his veins was familiar in an odd sort of way. A familiar twinge that made his body feel lighter and sent his heart fluttering.

Familiarness. Domesticity.  _ A family. _

For a few short seconds, Peter was thrown back to memories of his old apartment, May in the living room watching her trashy rom coms while Ben laughed at something that had happened. The smell of chamomile and vanilla wafted through the air, the windows wide open to let the candle smell dissipate faintly. Peter feeling happy. Laughing in the next room, running through the small space with his Iron Man repulsor. He felt free.

Another memory. Him in the library, old book smells surrounding him. Tentative smiles towards MJ, a secret handshake with Ned. Laughing so hard he was crying, but still managing to keep it quiet to escape the wrath of the librarian. AP Physics textbooks strewn across the desks, open and filled with sticky notes in assorted colors, each filled with three different types of handwriting. 

Peter inhaled, and then he was back. Back in the present, back with Matt and Tony. Surrounded by the smell of leather, ink, and nostalgia. Standing in the living room with a billboard searing through, drenching everything in its path a dull grey in response to the bad weather outside. In his hand, a warm kitten. Across from him, his two father figures, who were throwing jabs at each other while both holding a bottle and feeding a respective kitten with the last one playing with Tony’s sock. 

A family.

His family.

…  _ His family. _

Everything in him froze. His eyes widened, and he couldn’t breathe. Matt stopped what he was doing and turned to Peter, a look of concern on his face. Tony stopped laughing, noticing his audience wasn’t present anymore. 

“Peter?” Matt questioned, expressive eyes searching his face like a sighted person would. 

He couldn’t breathe. The words that came out of his mouth didn’t sound like his own. Quiet, almost inaudible. Lost in the exhale. “I know how to find him.”

Tony had turned around at that point, getting up and walking over. He wasn’t fast enough, though. Peter was already backing up, mind kicking into gear and sending a million different sensors firing at once. His hands were shaking, his head was going back and forth, and the kitten stopped meowing. 

Then, he stopped. Looked up into Matt’s eyes, knowing the effect would be felt. Licked his lips, and steeled himself.

“I know how to find him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Matt is sometimes a crackhead and you can pry that from my cold dead hands.
> 
> Also a-haha, I didn't mean for this to be such a slow burn. I just suck at writing romance. So, like, F in the chats. There'll definitely be more moments between the two, though, so don't worry! 
> 
> Fun fact, the four kittens weren't planned. At all. I just... When writing, I became a crackhead I guess. But I love Spinach, Nugget, Spoons and Fork with my whole ass heart, so they'll be around for a bit. 
> 
> Let me know what you guys think in the comments! <3


	3. Watch Me Dissolve (Slowly)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter nudged the other two’s fists, a smile spreading against his face. 
> 
> The purple of the billboard changed into a dark red, an ad for some type of soda showing up. 
> 
> The rain continued to echo throughout the space.
> 
> Their shadows mixed together to create a team of heroes, a family. 
> 
> “Let’s go get this son of a bitch.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello yes I am back with the longest, most information packed chapter :)
> 
> A few disclaimers before we start:
> 
> 1\. In this world, I a m G o d. I fiddled with a few things just so that it made sense to the story. One of the main things being Tony and Matt’s ages. You’ll see later on what I mean by that.  
(With that in mind, I know how long it takes to become a lawyer. If you care for the details, then like,,, imagine that Matt graduated high school early so that he could spend more time focusing on improving his senses after Stick left or whatever. Like I said, it’ll make more sense once you read it.)
> 
> 2\. I made a reference to the 2003 Daredevil movie. If you spy it, you’ll love it and then hate me lmao. If you don’t know what I’m talking about, then you’re just gonna love how soft the moment is.
> 
> 3\. I want to send a vErY special thanks to my three wonderful friends and betas Magniloquentchanteuse, SanaTomb, and RexAraneo! Go check out their stories on ao3, they’re absolutely amazing! 
> 
> And I think that’s it! Now with all of that out of the way, enjoy the story! <3

Peter wouldn’t tell them his plans.

But he did, however, give them a list of things they needed to do before they could even think about joining him on the search for the man who took their memories.

First, of course, was figure out what to do with the four kittens that resided in the living room. Peter had to put his foot down and do his best to ignore the pouty Tony, while simultaneously scolding the even more pouty Matt.

At the end of a long five minute argument filled with exasperated sighs, smartass lawyer logic, and actual realistic logic, Matt finally relented and decided to call Foggy and Karen and see if they were interested in taking care of some fuzzy friends.

“I’m sorry, what? I think I misheard you,” Foggy said over the phone. Matt had found a comfy position in the corner of the room, Spinach resting in his lap. He at least had the courtesy to look sheepish, crouched and hunched down with one hand stroking the fur on the kitten’s head. 

“I got you a present.”   
  


A sigh.

“Matt. Bud, buddy, good ol’ pal. Bestie, the number one reason why I have stress ulcers. Live animals aren’t presents.”   
  
“So you admit that you heard me correctly the first time.” Even though it came out smug, Matt still looked nervous. He had his lips in between his teeth, body tilting away from where Peter stood in the living room. Tony had dipped out and went to go get something from the tower, stealing one of Matt’s umbrellas to avoid the rain.

Once more, another sigh came from the phone. “Just… man, screw it. What does the kitten look like?” At that, Matt perked up and opened his mouth, no doubt ready to spew some blind joke, before Foggy realized his mistake. “You know what I mean. Ask Peter for colors.”

Matt tilted his head in consideration, waiting a few seconds to answer. “He has short hair. You remember that time when I went to your house for a Nelson Family Thanksgiving in college, and your Aunt Gertrude came up and scratched us with her impossibly short nails? Yeah, about that length. Long whiskers, like cattails without the actual fuzzy part. Even breathing, his muscles move in such a way that it’s almost comforting. Which, to translate into something you can understand, means he’s made for running, which is good for the amount of space you have.” He paused, licking his lips, before continuing. “... Foggy meadows. He smells and feels like a foggy meadow.” 

A pause. Then, “ _ What the fuck does that even mean?”  _

Frustration rolled off of Matt in small and subtle ways, enough that Peter wouldn’t have caught it unless he saw the shift. The tight grip on the phone, the stop of motions in his other hand. A singular harsh breath followed by a long exhale, eyes closing to fill his already black world.

Peter felt a twinge of pain at seeing Matt get upset with himself over his descriptions. It was always painful, to notice how he would change the way he talked about things so that it better fit what ‘normal’ people would be able to see. Instead of using describing things, such as someone smelling like the sun and applewood or feeling like smoked birch and amber, he’d change it to simpler things. They feel happy. They moved like they had just gotten off of the subway after being on it for too long.

The fact that Foggy had been the one to discourage him hit Peter a little hard, too, for some inexplicable reason. Maybe the blonde was still mad about Matt’s whole distance act. Or they were due for a fight. Whatever it may be, it still sent the wrong vibes towards Peter. 

Matt called his name, and Peter jumped to realize he’d been completely zoned out. Matt was standing now, with Spinach resting on his shoulder like a lazy parrot. “Sorry,” Peter told him, before reaching for the phone. “Hello?”

Foggy’s voice greeted him warmly, a juxtaposition to the tone he had last spoken to Matt with. “Mind explaining to me what’s going on over there? Do I need to pay a visit?”

Peter looked at Matt, before furrowing his brows and pursing his lips. “No, you don’t have to,” he answered with words that came out partially mumbed. “Matt rescued a few rare breeds and was going to take care of them so they didn’t die. I had to remind him that he had super senses and they didn’t agree with four kittens. So, he wanted to give one to you as a gift.” 

There was rustling over the line, followed by a sigh. Then, quietly, “I’m going to regret this.”

Matt turned with a curious look on his face, tilting his head to the side. Foggy once more let out one of his infamous I’m-tired-of-Matt-and-all-of-the-bullshit-that-comes-with-being-his-best-friend sighs, before answering tiredly. “Yeah, alright. Bring the fucker to the office, I’ll take him in.”

A wide grin spread across Peter’s face as he bounced in place. Matt looked relieved, even going as far as to let his posture relax just the slightest. “Really? That’s awesome! Thank you so much, Foggy! Fork and Spinch’ll have  _ so  _ many play dates, don’t you worry!”

Foggy spluttered over the line. “I’m sorry-- his name is Fo--”

“Thank you so much!”   
  
“No, wait, hold on--!”

Peter ended the call. 

It took approximately two seconds for the quirk on Matt’s lips to turn into a smile, and then a grin. Then, a full blown laugh that shook his frame and lightened the atmosphere astronomically. Peter couldn’t help but follow suit, finding Matt’s outright signs of joy contagious.

Soon, there were tears that formed in his eyes as well as a twinge in his side. Yet Peter couldn’t find it in himself to care. After all of the stress, trauma, and just overall events that should really be talked about with a therapist or twenty, the moment felt like a sort of relief. A breath of fresh air, a light in the darkness that seemed to cloud his days. Matt must’ve felt the same way, if the way his guard had finally lowered meant anything. 

Perhaps he was done doing his thing. 

Once they calmed down, Peter shot a quick text to Karen and asked if she could call. The duo only had to wait a few minutes before her caller ID lit up the screen, a candid photo of her looking at the sky as the sun set in the distance, casting her in a golden hue. 

“Hey, Peter!” She greeted kindly, sounding slightly out of breath. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“Hi, Karen!” Peter repeated, appreciating the way his smile warped his words and made them more jovial. A short puff of air came through the receiver, telling him that Karen had a matching one as well. “So, I actually have a weird question for you…”

A groan from the other end. “ _ You  _ have a weird question, or  _ Matt _ has a weird question?”

Peter opened his mouth to respond, before hesitating and closing it. Taking his lack of a response as an answer, Karen hummed. “What is it this time?”

Cutting straight to the chase, Peter decided to cheat the system and use his good naturedness to his advantage. 

“I got you a present.”

“Oh! Is it--”

“It’s a cat.”

A pause.

Matt choked on air, moving to his bedroom to cough up a lung while laughing. 

“It’s… a cat…” 

Peter nodded his head, despite knowing Karen was nowhere near to see the gesture.

“Yep. A cat. His name is Spoons. I love him, and he’s a gift. For you.” He raised the last two words higher than the others, giving the impression that he was a kind soul rather than a conniving bastard.

Karen made a weird noise over the line, and for a frightening second Peter thought he broke her. But then she responded with, “I love him already. Bring him to the office, I’m on my way there.” 

Peter loved Karen.

“Alright! I’ll see you soon!”

“Bye, Peter!” She cooed, before ending the call a few seconds later.

The entire interaction left Peter feeling lighter than he had in a long time, a smile on his lips and a warm feeling circling his heart. He’d been too busy working himself to the bone recently to really talk to Karen and Foggy, and he hadn’t realized how big of an effect that had on him until now. 

He filed that information for later.

Matt walked out from his room, face slightly red from his coughing fit. In his hand was Nugget, orange and white fur sticking out against Matt’s plain monotone colors. “What about this guy?” He questioned, bringing the fuzzball close to his face before lowering him once more. Nuggs mewed quietly at him, before gently nibbling on Matt’s thumb. 

Peter slouched slightly, putting all of his weight on one leg. A hum erupted from his throat, brows furrowing and lips once more sticking out like a duck. 

It took a few minutes-- which was admittedly pretty sad for a genius and an observant lawyer-- but they finally both thought of a conclusion.

Both of their eyes widened.    
  
Their heads quirked to the side, bodies standing taller.

Peter turned his eyes to Matt, while Matt looked a little to Peter’s right in an attempt to do the same.

They both gasped, before snapping one hand.

“Tony!”

______

  
  
  


“Oh, you’ve  _ got  _ to be shitting me.”

Peter was on his knees in front of Tony, presenting Nugget to him like Rafiki from Lion King did to Simba. Matt stood in the background, arms crossed over his chest and somehow managing to be completely straight faced. 

Tony had a briefcase in one hand, the other still on the door knob. While he was at the tower, he showered and fixed his appearance, a subtle but captivating smell of birch wood and amber rolling off of his every movement. He also changed clothes, now just donning a business jacket with a plain AC/DC shirt and jeans. 

Nugget, bless his heart, didn’t know what was going on. He looked at Tony with his squishy face, opened his mouth in a weak interpretation of a mewl, and then went back to minding his own business. 

Tony’s face scrunched up at the sound. 

Peter’s melted. 

“There’s no way I’m taking a cat. Nope, nada, not happening.” Tony moved from the door, passing Peter and moving farther into the apartment. “I hardly take care of myself as it is. What makes you think I’ll be able to take care of a filth ridden, dependent creature?” 

Matt tilted his head from his standing position before moving to the couch..“Because you already take care of filth ridden, dependent people?” He raised his arm to lay on the back of the cushions, lifting his hand as if shrugging with only his fingers and palm.

Tony paused, considered the sentence, and then shrugged. “Touché.”

Peter rolled his eyes and got up from his kneeling position on the floor, walking to follow Tony as the man set his case down and joined Matt on the couch. “Toooooony,” the teen drawled out, coming to join the two when Tony pat his thigh to signal him. A bit of shuffling later had Tony pushed into Matt’s side with Peter at the far end, doing his best to drape himself over the billionaire. Matt looked wildly uncomfortable with the predicament, especially since it meant that Tony was leaning straight under his arm and into his side. 

Tony found that he didn’t really mind. 

Totally because Matt smelt good, and not because he was warm enough to where Tony wanted to saddle him and hug him for a century. 

Yeah, not that. Because that’s creepy. 

Totally. 

“I’m! Not! Going! To! Take! The! Furball!” Each word was punctuated with fast slaps on Peter’s head. Even with the blows, however, Tony made sure that it was only really his fingertips that made any contact to ensure that he didn’t cause any actual harm. 

Peter giggled before bringing both Nugget and Spinach onto the couch. “But look!” He said, setting them down on his and Tony’s laps before picking up the other two. “They’re  _ kittens,  _ and they’re  _ adorable.” _

“No.”

“Yes.”

“Peter,  _ no.” _

“Tony,  _ yes.” _

Matt sighed and decided to get comfortable. He figured they’d be there for a while. 

_____

  
  


Tony said he would take the cat home. 

But only on the conditions that Peter would be over at  _ least  _ twice every week to play with the smushed face cat. And he’d need to bring one of his brothers or his sister. Y’know, in case cats get homesick. Or sibling sick, whatever.

Matt had damn near fallen asleep during the whole debacle, Tony fully tucked into his side. Weirdly enough, halfway through the zone of awake and conked out, he realized that they somehow sit together like two pieces of a puzzle. Incomplete parts that hadn’t known their place until they found it in that moment. 

At one point, Tony was jostled by Peter, causing Matt’s arm to fall from its place on the back of the couch to around Tony’s shoulders. 

He kept it there. 

He even adjusted his position slightly so that his fingers were brushing against Tony’s jacket, barely touching the fabric that felt a little too rough to be silk, but way too soft to be any regular material. 

It felt nice. 

A small smile was on Matt’s face for the longest time. He attributed it to the bickering going on between the other two. Everything felt good. Like it belonged. Like there wasn’t a massive gap in his memory, like there wasn’t a villain out there currently parading around on the fact that he had managed to weaken Daredevil, Spiderman, and Iron Man all in one fell swoop. Like Peter wasn’t sitting on the solution to all of this, and was only prolonging the inevitable.

No. Everything felt oddly wrong, yet so  _ right.  _ Matt couldn’t explain it, yet his heart knew what he meant.

Of course, before he could really dwell on the thought of connecting his heart’s wavelength to his brain’s, Peter got up. Dusted himself off, like there was an actual scuffle and he had somehow acquired it. The movement was enough to pull Matt from his almost rest, a yawn bubbling up and making itself known.

Then, Tony got up from his lounged position, stretching out his arms and popping his back before standing up as well, leaving Matt’s side feeling unbearably cold. 

“Well, we have to get to the office soon to deliver the other two munchkins, so we should probably start getting ready.” Peter turned away as he spoke, only righting his posture after he finished. Tony let out a little hum, agreeing without words. 

Matt got up and ignored the way his chest felt hollow. Like it had been ever since Tony came into his life. Or rather, what he could remember of Tony coming into his life. “I’ll get changed and then we can go. Are you planning on just carrying them, or getting a box?”

Peter’s eyes must’ve lit up, because in the next gasp for breath Tony had cut him off. “You got a box laying around here, Murdock?” 

The air around Peter’s shoulders moved down, telling Matt that Peter had slouched in defeat. The man quirked his head, trying to remember if he had a spare box, before realizing. “There should be one or two in Peter’s room.”   
  
His room. The one under the stairs, the space that hardly got used because of Peter’s interest in Matt’s silk sheets and high ceilings. The room itself looked completed, fit with all of the bare necessities. It matched the apartment, in a convoluted way. 

Yet at the same time, the room was incomplete. It looked like a guest room, not a space for a teenager. It lacked any feeling, any emotion. There weren’t any trinkets littering the area, nothing that made it scream that it was Peter’s dwelling. 

Everything was still brand new: the conversion from Matt’s old gym to Peter’s bedroom happened only in the recent few months. When Matt had first brought up the option of changing the gym to a bedroom to Peter, the teenager thought he was joking. After all, Matt loved his gym. Treated it like it was Fogwell’s. Like his own father had practiced in the very space that Matt had taken care of.

Yet, one day when Peter came home from patrol, tired and smelly, he was shocked to see the space completely cleared out, gym equipment nowhere to be seen. 

_ ‘I have your bed coming in two days,’  _ Matt had told the gobsmacked Spider.  _ ‘I think it’s a dark red. Almost a maroon. If it isn’t, then I was lied to.’  _

Peter had hugged him, despite Matt’s cries about him being stinky. 

After the bed came the shelves, then the work table, and then the chairs and rug. Yet there was still nothing that stuck out as Peter’s.

Off in the far corner was a dresser, though. In it, were all of Peter’s belongings. The ones that he carried around before he met Matt. Important documents were stacked neatly together and put in a folder, placed on the top. Inside the drawers were his old clothes; a jacket from his Uncle Ben, his parent’s wedding rings. Things that Peter wanted to keep but couldn’t force himself to wear. 

And of course, next to all of that, was a shit ton of boxes.

So Matt went and retrieved those and gave one to Tony, an indifferent mask placed carefully on his face. As if the aspect of walking into that room wasn’t a miracle or even something that needed to be marveled at.

Tony took the box carefully, hoping that somehow Murdock and Parker didn’t catch the way he needed to swallow at the thought of Peter having a room but not living in it. Flashbacks to the warehouse Tony had found plagued his mind, the small corner in the back being his living space. Why was Peter having his own room choking him up so much?

Gently, ever so gently, Peter began to put the kittens in the box. Each one meowed in a scandalized tone, upset with being put in such a closed off space. “Shh, shh, I know. It’s not permanent, babies.” He cooed, losing any and all pretenses of the near adult he was by puckering his lips out and speaking in an idiotic voice. 

The choice of tone had Tony rolling his eyes, Matt’s lips threatening to twitch up in what could only be considered a half smile. But of course, Peter was oblivious to the reactions, instead petting Nuggs and Spinch like his life depended on it. 

“Alright, Doctor Dolittle. Move out of the way, let’s get these cats to their new owners.”

Matt grabbed his cane, only now unfolding it. His glasses were already in place, suit immaculate and screaming _Matthew_ _Michael Murdock. _Peter skipped twice to get to his side, slipping his hand into the crook of his elbow and gently squeezing. A practiced motion, formed into a habit due to repetition. Finally Matt smiled at the teen, leaning forward and opening the door for the trio. 

Tony, for some weird reason, felt like he was left out of the equation. Maybe it was because he was left in the back holding the kittens rather than at Matt’s side. But as they got down the stairs and into the streets where everybody and their mothers were left ogling at the billionaire with a box that insisted on meowing every other step in four different pitches, a bit of anxiety started to finally creep its way up his abdomen and into his sternum.

So he shifted the box around and ignored the eyes, instead slipping his arm around Matt’s. The man had a shocked look on his face, turning in Tony’s direction just the slightest. But Tony continued to stare straight ahead, ignoring the way his hand turned clammy and was resting on Matt’s wrist, which was gently moving side to side with his cane. He ignored the way his heart raced like it was running a forty mile marathon. He ignored the way people were whispering, taking pictures. Talking about the billionaire and the blind man, along with the smiling teen and the box full of kittens.

For some reason, which Tony couldn’t begin to fathom or even begin to question, he felt himself start to panic. Not outwardly of course, no. He had too much experience behind his name to know how to hide when something truly bothered him like that. Instead, it was apparent by the way his heartbeat sped up. In the way his hands felt clammy and sweaty despite it being relatively chilly outside. How his breaths were staccato and bouncing out of a rhythm, unable to lock back into a safe tempo. The way his throat was dry and scratchy yet he felt the need to swallow and swallow until his tongue had no more liquid on it. 

At one point, when they turned down a street with few people, Matt threw his cane into his other hand. Then, with only a breath to steel himself, moved his now free hand to grasp Tony’s. “Calm down,” he murmured softly. “Nobody is here, nobody is watching. You’re okay, you’re going to be fine.”

The words soothed a nerve in him, anxiety finally quelling in the slightest. Matt was like a drug, speaking only a few words and managing to send a feeling of euphoria licking at Tony’s being. His posture relaxed ever so slowly, and it was only then that he realized how tense he had been. 

Peter relaxed out of the corner of his eye, and Tony cringed at the fact that the other two could hear his internal freak out over the public.  _ How shameful of a Stark.  _

“Hey man,” Peter said, not moving his eyes. “It’s alright. Happens to the best of us, right? It’s not predictable. You’re fine, you’re alright.”

The parroting of words seemed to finally do the trick, letting his death grip on the box relax slightly. He blew out a breath, and with it, any anxiety that had clung to his frame. 

It only clicked in that moment that him and Matt were holding hands.

Tony squeezed his in appreciation, dropping them to their sides so that their hands weren’t suspended in air. 

A small and tentative smile dared to spread against his mouth, a breath of fresh air in spite of his small panic. Peter had a content one on his face as well, features looking lax and more carefree than they had in weeks. Matt just continued to look forward and act like the contact didn’t have an affect on him. 

It was one of the rare times that Tony wished he had super hearing like the two, if only to see what Matt really felt like behind the stone wall that he had so carefully built up.

They continued to walk like that all the way to the law firm, only garnering a few more looks. Most were towards the blind lawyer, however, which was borderline refreshing for the billionaire. Once, they had gotten stopped by an old lady who sang praises to Peter and his writing that he did for work. The teen just blushed madly and took the compliments with ease, a modesty that had Tony feeling proud. 

Matt dropped Tony’s hand so that he could open the door when they got there, letting the two pass by first before entering himself. Tony looked around the small office, before his eyes landed on who he assumed to be Karen.

Karen, who was at the coffee machine. Who had four cups laid out with steam rising slowly from the top, one extra cup in her hand as she stared at them knowingly.

Well.

Knowingly at Matt and Peter.

When her eyes landed on Tony, though? That was a whole other story.

Tony, among the throng of things, had forgotten that he never met Matt’s law partners. He only heard stories about them, heard their voices over the phone as they scolded Matt and gushed about Peter. 

Karen just about dropped her mug and sent it careening towards the floor. Her jaw was lowered impossibly, and he could’ve sworn that she had done a double take before connecting the face to the name. Her eyes were widened and practically screamed out curiosity and suspicion. Suspicion, for only her to know and Tony to guess.

“O-oh my God,” Karen said in a breathless laugh. Her face lit up as she brought her jaw back up to form an unbelievably charming smile, one hand coming up to tuck hair behind her ear in what Tony could only guess was a nervous habit. “You’re Tony Stark. Like,  _ actually  _ Tony Stark.” Then, quiter, “ _ I can’t believe my luck.” _

Tony reciprocated her smile, taking a few steps forward to meet her in a handshake. It took a second for her to process what was happening, but when she caught on she grabbed his in kind, gently squeezing and giving him a firm shake. “And you must be the beautiful Karen Page?”

Matt had been across the room at that point, settling into what seemed to be his office. However when those words entered the atmosphere, he changed his movements and posture. When that sentence slipped through Tony’s mouth and curled in the air for everyone to hear, Matt froze at his position at his desk, choosing not to finish filling out papers. His hands stopped moving and his shoulders were a tight line, head tilted in that annoyingly cute way that had Tony feeling just a tad bit weak in the knees.

Karen, however. She let out an amazing laugh and looked down, messing with her hair and trying to calm her heating face. Tony smiled once more at her, eyes looking towards Peter to see what he was doing as they had their little tête-à-tête. 

The boy in question was at his own desk, sitting down and powering up his laptop with an intense stare. No doubt getting straight to work on his next article. That, or checking up information on the villain that he so desperately didn’t want to fill Tony in on.

Karen finally looked up at him with her gorgeous baby blue eyes, and Tony was reminded of a super soldier who shared the same look. And the same golden hair color. And… the same smile…

Huh.

Was Karen the Steve of Matt’s superhero gang?

“Why, Mr. Stark, you flatter me.” She blinked a few times before bringing her mug close to her lips and taking a shallow drink. A huff of air left Tony’s nostrils in lieu of a laugh, and he easily responding with “Please. Call me Tony. Mr. Stark was my father.”

She nodded as if understanding the predicament he was in. “Alright, Tony,” she said his name with a slight lilt that sent shrills up Tony’s spine, “Do you mind if I ask to what we owe the pleasure of this miraculous visit?”

It was only then that Tony remembered the box in his arms. He shifted his hold on it, before procuring a kitten from the cuddle pile the little ones had fallen into. “I believe this one is yours?” He asked, Spoons meowing tiredly. 

A gasp came from Karen, and quickly turned around to place her mug down before practically jolting forward. “Oh my God!” She squeaked out, gently taking Spoons from Tony’s lax hold. Instantly, the short haired kitten started purring under her touch. It only took a few gentle pats for him to fall back asleep in Karen’s hold. Her mouth was wide open in awe and her eyes were sparkling in adoration, shifting between the tiny bundle in her hands and the billionaire in front of her.

Matt, from his office, had a small smile on his face. His fingers had started to gently skim over what looked to be a blank piece of paper from the position and distance Tony was at, slight pinch in his brow looking borderline harsh against the subtleness of the crows feet next to his uncovered eyes. 

Tony felt a warmth blossom in his chest at the sight, now completely distracted from the lady in front of him. 

Matt must’ve somehow known that Tony was looking at him, because at that moment he lifted his sightless eyes away from the paper and moved his head to face Tony’s direction. His fingers stopped moving and his head quirked to the side in curiosity. Then, he licked his lips innocently, as if tasting a chapstick flavor. 

Tony’s legs were moving towards Peter’s desk and putting the box down before he even registered what was going on.

The three kittens in the cuddle pile only shifted minutely when the box hit the desk, Peter grunting in acknowledgement that there was now something new in his space. Tony didn’t say anything, instead traveling across the office and knocking on Matt’s door out of politeness.

Of course, the man answered with, “Come in,” a little quirk on his lips. 

Tony pushed open the door, breath catching a little bit when Matt ran a hand through his hair, slouching back in his chair and slightly pulling his shirt out from its tucked position under his suit pants. 

Only then did Tony really come to his senses. And his senses were confused as  _ fuck. _

Why did he have such an intense urge to gravitate towards Matt in those few seconds? What was making his skin light up, his arc reactor buzzing gently in a note that he could barely hear but definitely feel? Did his fingers always have the urge to trace the pattern that Matt’s had taken, going in his hair and then slowly running down his face, breaking off course to run down his chest and unbutton his shirt, and then--

“May I help you?” Matt asked in a voice that suggested he knew exactly what Tony was thinking and knowing that neither of them would do anything about it. 

Tony of course, weaseled out of confusion and made way for sarcasm. “Oh, not really. You just seemed lonely all cooped up in your janitor closet, so I figured I’d come and inform you with a jovial spirit to get your grouchy ass to smile.” 

Mission success. Matt let out a breathless chuckle, eyes lighting up in amusement as he looked down and then shook his head. “If you’re here to inform me, then you might as well get out. Send Peter, if need be.” 

A hum came from the back of Tony’s throat and he paused, acting as if he was considering. “Hmm.. You know what? How ‘bout no.” He held out his arms like he was about to offer a hug, before shrugging. “Looks like you’re stuck with me, devil boy.”

Matt rolled his eyes, a smile still prominent on his lips. Finally, he got up from his chair, moving to where Tony was blocking the door. He continued until there was less than a foot away from them, body heat intermingling. Each breath he had was a breath that Tony took, sharing the small space between. Outside, the sky rumbled threateningly.

“Karen seems to like you,” Matt said conversationally. Yet under his voice seemed to be a hidden layer of emotion. Anger, jealousy? But jealous of who, or what? Tony felt his eyebrow raise, confusion settling deep in his bones.

“Uh, yeah, because I’m an absolute hoot. What’s new?”

His response was met with a head shake of disapproval, Matt not gracing him with an actual answer. Instead, Matt tilted his head to the side and began listening to something. What that something was... was anyone’s guess. His hands were resting on his belt, a subtle power stance taking control of his form and making him the dominant one in the room.

Tony shifted his weight onto one leg and crossed his arms, tilting his head like Matt and Peter did. “Any reason for that weird tidbit of information, Mr. Bloodhound?”

If he were a lesser person, he would dare to say that Matt may have been dealing with some of his Catholic beliefs recently. Thinking them through, realizing areas that he could bend the rules. Choose to not listen. Not care. Be his own person, rather than fall to the masses as another blind and mindless being. 

Quite possibly, if Tony were more of a love sick fool, he’d like to believe that Matt was changing his beliefs for him. Switching his viewpoints to better fit his situation, to accomodate to the huge change that Tony brought into his life.

Yet Tony was a realist, and deep down he knew it was only wishful thinking.

“Not particularly,” Matt said with a subtle lip twitch. “Just letting you know in advance, so that you know not to flirt with my coworker in my presence.” 

Tony nodded as if the information was any bit insightful. “Oh, but that’s where you’re deluded, my dear Matt.” The man in question seemed to stand a little straighter at the possessive comment, head straightening out and eyes clouding over. “Karen is a bit...  _ too  _ young for me.”

At that, Matt seemed to pause in question. “But she’s only twenty four?” He intoned, curiosity and confusion leaking into his few words. Tony nodded nonetheless, choosing to answer in grace. “Exactly my point. As a twenty-eight year old, that seems just a tad bit weird. Only a four year gap, but still. Five years away from Peter’s age.”

Now Matt really  _ did  _ pause. Like everything the man was doing was put on hold. He stood still, not a single hair moving. Then he opened his mouth slightly, closed it, and then repeated the process. Finally, he got out “ _ No shit?”  _

The roles had somehow switched, or rather Matt’s had been passed to Tony, for he was now the confused one. “Um, yes?” He answered unsurely. Matt shook his head like a dog, brows furrowing. “You’re twenty-eight?” 

The question had Tony laughing, all previous conversation innuendos forgotten. “Yeah, don’t make me feel old. I’m guessing by your shock that you’re younger?” He  _ tsked.  _ “Gotta say, Murdock. Dating younger people isn’t really my thing. However if it’s only by a year or two, I’m sure I could make something happen.” Tony added a playful wink and tongue click at the end, noting that Matt hadn’t bristled at the comment like he would have done just days prior. Instead, the man only rolled his eyes and went to move back to his desk. Creating more distance between the two.

“I’m twenty-six, about to be twenty-seven. Get out of here, Stark. Dating older people isn’t really my thing.” Matt added to the joke, which shocked Tony into near stillness. Instead, it just brought out an unexpected laugh that rippled through his body and raised his eyebrows further into his hairline. “I feel like this is where I’m supposed to say ‘ _ no shit’?” _

Murdock had sat back down in his chair at that point, turning his ear to the window where the subtle  _ pitter patter  _ of rain began to pelt against the surface. He hummed in response before turning back around and placing his intertwined fingers on his desk. “I feel like age isn’t what you came in here for,” he changed the subject swiftly, bored with the old one. Or, perhaps, hiding some unbidden feelings over the matter.

“You’re correct in that assumption.” Tony allowed the change to go through, choosing to just divert the rest of their time together to talking to the other man and learning more about him. But as he opened his mouth, another voice cut through the space.

“MATTHEW MICHAEL MURDOCK, I AM IN LOVE WITH THIS CAT.”

Matt winced, kissing his quiet space goodbye. Tony turned towards the door in question, right before it burst open to reveal a blonde man-- Foggy, he assumed-- holding Fork like Rafiki from Lion King held Simba.

Which was how Peter had presented Nugget to Tony.

Huh.

Maybe the interaction was a common one between their friend group.

“How could you keep this little dude from me? Why didn’t you tell me about him sooner? I swear Matt, I will love him and his big honkin’ nose for the rest of--” Foggy paused as he took sight of the confused billionaire and his best friend, who had his head in his hands.

Tony watched the second Foggy connected Tony’s face to the billionaire that’s plastered on every news channel at least every other day, and then the exact second Foggy kissed his professional career goodbye. 

“ _ Oh my God,”  _ he whispered, slowly lowering the cat. Tony awkwardly waved, moving his hand in one motion before pairing it with a slightly condescending smile. “ _ I’m going to quit my job and become a butcher. It’s fate. I was doomed from the start.” _

Peter, the little shit he was, was off in the background trying to contain his cackles.

“Franklin Nelson, I presume?” Tony asked, fully knowing he was correct just by the way Foggy’s eyes widened comically.

“And he knows my name, oh  _ shit,”  _ he whispered, before realizing what he was saying and becoming a physical representation of a melting iceberg. “And he can hear my every word, just great.” 

In a louder voice, Foggy replied with “Yes, that’s me!” He moved Fork to rest in one hand, the other raised in an offered handshake. “But everyone calls me Foggy. Don’t ask, long story.” Tony accepted the handshake in grace, flashing one of his brilliant smiles.

“I’ve heard much about you, Foggy. I even followed your work on the  _ Laudry Vs. Anns  _ case. Very perceptive, are we?” A blush spread against the mans face at the praise, Matt going from head in hands to putting his face on the desk, a little groan escaping his lips as he slouched into defeat.

“Well, not necessarily perceptive. Just really good at not freezing when it comes to failed legal arguments.” Foggy said humbly, shrugging noncommittally. Tony nodded, appreciating the show. 

“Either way, you’ve impressed me.”

He was met with a smile, one that was contagious in the way it made Foggy’s entire demeanor lighten up. Shortly after, Karen poked her head in. “Hey Matt, I-- Oh! Foggy! When did you come in?”

Foggy turned and greeted her, evading her question by raising Fork up once more. He let out a high pitched squeal which sounded more like a dying moose. Karen’s eyes lit up, before she held Spoons up in the same way and let out a noise that was remarkably close to the sound, except instead of a moose she sounded more like a pterodactyl. The only difference between the two was that she accompanied it with a little jig, bringing the two of them closer to rest the cats next to each other.

“Dear Father, who art in Heaven--” Matt started pitifully from behind his desk. Tony turned towards him and chortled briefly, walking up to the melting man before clapping him on the back. 

He was met with a groan. 

Peter was in the background wheezing quietly.

Tony smiled from his position, realizing that he could get used to this type of lifestyle.

  
  
  


______

  
  


“I need to be alone.”

By then, it was just Peter, Matt, and Tony. They had worked throughout the day, making progress on new cases or updating articles. Or really, in Tony’s case, being the good face that attracted new customers to the door in hopes for an autograph. 

They had barely gotten to their dwelling before Peter blurted out those five words, effectively causing Tony to stumble and Matt to completely stop mid step, balance eerily still. The two elders turned in unison, facing the now sheepish Spiderling.

“I’m sorry,” Tony started.

“But care to explain?” Matt finished, hand dropping from the doorknob. 

Peter’s hummingbird heart sped up ever so slightly at the sentence said in two voices, eyelashes fluttering in what Matt had to assume was his eyes bouncing between the two. He turned his head to the side, hearing more than feeling Tony cross his arms and cock out his hip. 

“I… I need to be alone.” Peter started once more, words faltering with insecurity. But as Tony turned his head to the side-- crazily similar to Matt’s habit,  _ when the fuck did that happen?--  _ the teen managed to channel some of his inner Spiderman. He took in a deep breath that filled his chest nicely, hands clenching into fists at his side. Posture strong and determined, chin raised up in defiance. A glare on his face, curls on top of his head settling. Brows furrowed, heart calming down. “I’m going to track this guy down, and I don’t want you two around for it. I need to do this. For myself. I’m the one who got us into this situation, I’m going to be the one to get us out.”

Matt was about to voice his agreement when Tony beat him to it. “That’s bullshit, Peter!” He whisper shouted, mindful of the other residents in the building. “You don’t think this affects us too? It’s our memories, for God’s sake!” 

“Of course it affects you! But it isn’t your fault, it’s mine!”

“No, we’re staying and we’re helping you, kiddo. Not up for debate. You don’t get to--”

“Tony.”

Matt spoke in a low, calm voice, immediately dragging both occupants’ attention towards him. “Let him be, we’ll go somewhere else.”

He heard the way Peter’s inner storm settled down at his declaration, in perfect harmony with the rising of Tony’s avalanche. Matt chose to ignore the two, however, moving further in his home to put down Spinach and Nugget from their box confines. There was a scoff behind him, followed by some angry footsteps leading the way downstairs. Then, ever so quietly, Peter’s trained steps barely making a sound against the wood of the floors.

Spinach mewed, and Matt realized the two hadn’t eaten in a while. He went towards the kitchen and began making their two bottles, steadfastly ignoring the look he could practically feel radiating off of Peter across the room.

Eventually, the teen spoke. “Why?” He asked in a whisper. To which, Matt paused.

Why what? Why did he defend him? Why was he making a bottle for the cats to drink? Why did he not fight? Join in on the argument and lay some of his, no doubt, insightful information on the two? Why didn’t he go after Tony? Why wasn’t he gone yet?

Matt instead decided to purse his lips, hands continuing to measure the amount of water needed. “Why not?” He asked instead, just to fill the silence.

After a few minutes, the two kittens were happily laying on the couch with a pillow helping to prop up their bottles of food. Matt hummed to himself, pleased, and then turned to Peter.

“I won’t be able to keep him away long, you know.” 

Peter nodded. Then, out of habit for keeping up the charade of talking to a blind man, answered with “I know.”

“I’ll be back by six tomorrow, alright?”

A small smile. The smell of sunflowers and lavender. A new hand lotion? Curls bobbing in comprehension, work shirt rubbing against skin. “Thank you.”   
  
Matt let out a huff of air in response, went to change into his Daredevil gear, and then left out the fire escape to leave Peter to his own devices.

  
  


______

  
  


  
  
It wasn’t until well before two that Matt found Tony.

Or really, he guessed, he stumbled into him. See, Matt wasn’t exactly going out to look for the billionaire, instead choosing to fight whatever crime was out on the streets for the night. A part of him just assumed that Tony was out of commission for the night, going back upstate to be with himself and his robots after his small disagreement-slash-argument with Peter.

But lo and behold, under all of the rain that fell throughout the city, the man was sitting on top of the tallest building in the Kitchen. 

Matt had to do some truly impressive parkour to get where Tony was at, almost slipping and falling twice due to the wet nature of the building. Both times, he cursed the sky for choosing to finally dump the storm after being a cock tease about it for the better half of the week.

Tony was slouched on the side of the building, shivering under the coldness of the raindrops. His hair was matted down, and his clothing easily added a few pounds to his figure. There was no heat radiating from his fingers, and Matt seriously questioned how the man hadn’t developed a case of hypothermia.

Still, he wasn’t much better. His custom made Kevlar gear was good for many things, but the cold wasn’t one of them. He was still vulnerable to the elements, even if his suit was relatively water proof. However, the small part of his face that was uncovered was enough to cause his teeth to chatter, Matt openly cursing his enhanced touch for making it feel ten times worse than what it probably was.

Yet the coldness didn’t stop him from joining Tony at the edge, a groan emitting from his lips as he sat down next to him. A lucky hit from a crowbar made his spine sore, as well as his knee where it buckled under the harsh jab. 

A sigh from next to him. At least Tony was cognizant. 

“Hey.”

“You’re freezing.”

Matt hadn’t raised his voice, answering in his Daredevil tones. Shivers ran down Tony’s spine, and he wasn’t entirely sure if it was just from the rain. 

“Yeah, and what about it?” Tony nearly barked. As if Matt wanted to challenge him on his reckless and borderline self destructive behaviors. Nah, he himself had just gone through his own phase. He wasn’t one to judge. Not really.

A little digging and Matt procured a new set of gloves that he had strategically hidden in one of the zippers of his suit. He tossed them to Tony and felt slightly bad at the sharp wince he got in return from the billionaire moving his fingers for probably the first time that night. 

Silence for a bit, filled by the pelting of the rain that blanketed Hell’s Kitchen. Then, softly, “Thank you.” There was still no movement for putting the offered garments on.

Matt sighed, closed his eyes. “You do realize why I sided with him, right?” he asked, voice dark and gruff and only slightly better than what he was used to using at this time of night.    
  
Now he had Tony’s rapt attention. “No, actually. I genuinely don’t fucking understand. Pray tell, did you think it was a good idea to let a seventeen year old take on a three man mission by himself? Keep in mind, this is the same man who has the power to get you to forget people. Maybe even who you are, if he cared to research into where his little science project went wrong.”

The fire in Tony’s chest did nothing to help the weather on the outside. Even with the anger, the spitefulness, he still shivered and clenched his teeth together. Possibly a metaphor, if Matt were to dig and delve further into it. Yet he let the philosophical thinking slide for the time, if only for the fact that he had dwelled on it too long already and the train of thought was at its end. 

“Tony,” Matt started, facing out towards the city. He adjusted his position with minimal struggles, bringing one leg upwards while leaving the other dangling, resting an elbow on the extended kneecap to capture the look of open nonchalance. “Try to think about it from this perspective: You’re a teenager. You ask the two most important people-- that’s us, by the way-- to help you, and then they end up getting punished for it. You’re left to deal with the very real and very possible death of them, forced to make a decision to leave behind everything that’s dear to all three of you, or leave behind the other two.”

He paused to give it more effect. “The culprit gets away, and you’re left heaving whatever is in your stomach because the two men won’t wake up. Not even after the explosion that rocked the world. Not after the trip across city, where you had to swing and carry both of them at the same time. Not even when you all get back to the place you live in. No, there was a pause between their waking and their crashing. A pause that was long enough to let your mind wander. Think of all the possibilities of things you  _ could’ve  _ done, things you  _ should’ve  _ done.”

  
Matt had Tony’s complete attention at that point. And if it weren’t for the way his breath hitched and the hard pumping of his almost imperceptible heart, he would’ve thought Tony wasn’t truly considering his words.

“Now consider this: you have a lead. A way to reverse everything. To get things to be like they were before-- get them better. Would you, in all of your righteous beliefs, want to put it onto the two people who had suffered the most? Or would you want to do it by yourself, get the gratification that your work wouldn’t be wasted. That you were the one to solve the problem. The one to fix everything.” 

Tony remained silent for a while, head turned to look at Matt who resolutely continued to face the city. All around him, sounds were diluted by a cacophony of noise, yet slightly amplified by the pelting of the rain on the surfaces of Hell’s Kitchen. The birds that hid out on the next building over ruffled their feathers and cooed, vibrations echoing throughout his mind.

He could only guess what was going through the billionaires mind at that point, and yet he found himself unwilling to do that. He wanted to know how the man was processing the information, taking in the new point of view. Yet at the same time, there was an inkling of worry that the sentiment would be wasted and Tony would continue to bask in his righteous anger towards the situation.

Eventually, though, Tony sighed and got up. His knees popped with the motion, turning to get off of the side of the building and stand in the relative middle, finally putting on the gifted gloves. Only slightly confused, Matt followed his movements.

“You’re right,” Tony eventually said in a whisper. A gloved hand was brought to his face, quickly joined by the other as they rubbed his forehead, before smearing down his face and resting on his chin in an outstretched position, then falling limp at his sides. Matt approached slowly, footsteps silent and lips slightly parted as a shiver tried making music out of his decidedly non-marimba spine. “You’re always right. Is that a secret you lawyers share?”

Matt didn’t give an outward reaction to the joke, despite smiling on the inside. “You’d be surprised.” He decided to answer ambiguously, finally stopping his slow movements when he arrived in front of Tony. The billionaire’s heartbeat ticked up a few beats, breath catching. Matt tilted his head, wondering if this was the first time Tony saw him in his full gear. Perhaps that was the reason for his reaction. Fear over the horns? Remembrance of the negative press that The Devil garnered? Or just finally connecting the Man Without Fear to the lawyer Matt Murdock Tony knew?

Yet his question was answered when Tony spoke next. “How do you… how do you know it’s right? Not just an accidental decision, or just you giving the most pleasing answer to get whatever outcome you want?” 

Ah.

Matt knew the connotations there.

He knew them, and for a reason that he knew would be the center of his prayers for the next year, he allowed them. Indulged in them. Did exactly what Tony asked, and gave the answer that was right for him, right for them. 

“You get a feeling,” he said in his regular voice, Daredevil gruff nonexistent. To right it, he brought his hands up and clicked his mask off, silently hoping that the wetness that was about to cover his head would be worth it. By the way Tony’s heartbeat managed to speed up once more, he guessed that his straight-out-of-costume look was the right choice. “It… it’s when your mind syncs up with your heart, and everything feels right. You know, with every fiber of your being, that it’s the answer.”

There was rain on his eyelashes now, shielding his brown eyes from the inevitable raindrops. He felt every wet splash on his face, every cascading ripple. Every movement that happened on the rooftop. From the raindrops to the way his body naturally swayed in the slightest with each breath, to the way Tony froze up after the declaration, chest stopping its movements before continuing after a long exhale.

Tony took a step closer. Unsure. The sound was bouncy, like he went to take it, and then faltered right before the ball of his foot hit the floor but ultimately decided to continue its trek.

Matt took one as well. More solid. Quiet. Done in one steady roll from his heel, all the way to his toes. 

They both brought their other leg to match the first at the same time.

Once more, Matt sensed a philosophical metaphor with the movements. With the way he was confident in his small step, signalling the way that he was separating from his beliefs and doing it proudly. With the way it was done fluidly, fully encasing the way that he was positive that ‘ _ yes, this is the right decision.’ _

And then with Tony’s. Slow and careful, a step of a man who had been burned too many times before. Scared to get burned again. A candle at its last light, unwilling to die out yet wanting to get the inevitable over with before it’s replaced with something better. 

He didn’t have more time to dwell on it, for Tony had spoken once more.

“What if I don’t like the feeling?” he asked in a low voice. Matt quirked his lip as he blinked, feeling the heaviness of his eyelashes return to their normal weight before another drop eventually fell on them.

“Well, good luck ignoring it, then.”

And just like that, Tony took the two steps needed to close the distance between them.

His hands met Matt’s body before his lips did, grabbing onto his shoulder and his hip. Holding on like Matt would tense up and disappear. Like he would leave if Tony let go, turn into ashes with only a prayer on his lips. His grip was strong and his fingers dug into the armor plates of Matt’s suit, but the feeling was lost through the electric zing that came from his mouth.

Tony kissed him like his life depended on it. Strong with conviction, perfectly matching Matt’s own. Gone was the insecurity they both seemed to harbor, washing away as they kissed each other with matching intensity. 

Matt tilted his head in a silent offering, and Tony took the initiative. In yet another fluid motion, he deepened the kiss and sent the same feeling that reverberated through Matt’s body into bright burning stars, lighting up everything in him. 

His hands found their way to Tony’s hips, lightly grabbing them in a loving gesture. Too hard of a squeeze, and he worried that he’d be able to break his bones just as easily as he broke criminals noses every night. Yet he couldn’t help when his hands naturally held on harder once a small happy sound came from Tony’s mouth, the hand that was resting on his shoulder plate instead migrating up to tangle in his hair.

The kiss grew stronger with each passing second, yet still somehow managed to feel tender and sweet. Like they were meant for it, meant to be here in this moment doing exactly this.

Eventually Tony needed to breathe, however, and pulled away. Not by much, only enough to rest his forehead on Matt’s, creating a small bubble of safety from falling raindrops. They both breathed in tandem, before a husky and barely there laugh came from Matt’s throat. Tony’s eyes opened and flickered towards his, and he laughed as well. 

Then, Matt was leaning forward again. Just for a peck, nothing as strong as the first kiss they shared. But his lips lingered on Tony’s, taking it in. The feeling, both from the way Tony felt on him and around him as well as the electricity that coursed through his body.

Their lips made a parting sound as they disconnected once more, sounding like a temporary goodbye with the promise of more to come. 

Matt still kept his hands on Tony, and Tony still kept his hands on Matt.

“Wow,” Tony breathed out. “I  _ knew  _ you were a fantastic kisser.”

At that, Matt let out a throaty laugh, tilting his head backwards. The raindrops splashed on him, around him, and the sounds were repetitive enough for him to be able to form a picture of everything. Almost like he could see again.

So of course, the first thing he did was look at Tony.

With the drops splashing against his skin, Matt could see all of Tony’s features. His stubble on his face, his goatee looking as if it had been trimmed that morning. His eyebrows which so perfectly filled out his face, and his cheekbones that were only barely prominent.

“You’re beautiful,” Matt told him in a whisper. Tony turned to the side, embarrassed, and he could feel the heat that rose to his cheeks. 

“You really know how to charm a guy, don’t you, D?” Tony retaliated, finally moving his hands to instead grab Matt’s own. 

“Honestly, you’d be the first.”

At that, Tony smiled. Then he looked at his watch and saw what time it was. “Shit, it’s a quarter till four.” Matt rolled his eyes, choosing to ignore the thought of having to be in court at noon. 

Despite the declaration of time, they stayed holding hands for a while. Just soaking in the new step in their friendship-- relationship. Whichever way. At some point, Matt leaned forward and planted his nose in the crook of Tony’s neck, putting his head in the space and marvelling at the fact that even  _ that _ felt like it was right. Like he was meant to fit right there. Here, the smell of blueberries and that random damn ocean was more prominent than the smell of oil and metal that lingered on the billionaire’s body, mixing together to create a fragrance perfectly unique to him. Tony hummed a little, leaning his head on Matt’s and choosing to let go of one of his hands to instead put his on Matt’s hip.

When the rain stopped, they separated. Tony was still shivering, and Matt felt how his body wanted so desperately to do the same. “Should we head back?” Tony asked, to which Matt shot him a playful glare. The former nodded and pursed his lips, saying “I deserved that.”

He took off the gloves that had been presented to him earlier, handing them back to their rightful owner. Matt shook his head, pushing them back to Tony. “Keep them on,” he told him. “It’ll at least provide some semblance of warmth, and it’ll keep your fingers from falling off.” 

Tony scoffed playfully, before slipping them back on. “Alright, Mr. Chivalry.”

Matt went back to putting on his helmet, when Tony called for him.“Wait a second,” he said, right before Matt’s hands had passed his head. “Yes?” Matt responded, staying still. The billionaire took a step forward and raised a hand, placing it over Matt’s jaw before sliding it to fit around his ear. Then, he leaned forward and kissed Matt once more. The latter smiled throughout it, kissing back and bringing his own hand to hold Tony’s face as his was.

When they separated once more, Tony had a matching smile. “Sorry, couldn’t resist.” Matt chuckled, slipping on his mask and securing it. “If you’re always going to be this affectionate, Stark, then we won’t stand a chance trying to work in separate fields away from each other.”

Tony’s heart rate increased after his words. Possibly in reference of this being more than a one time thing?    
  
Matt tried not to dwell over whatever happened to make Tony think that a moment like what they had shared would be a one time thing.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Just watch it, Horn Head. Come this time next week, you’ll be the one who’s feeling like he needs to be around me.” Tony gestured around broadly, a huge smile on his face. Even though he couldn’t see it, Matt rolled his eyes and scoffed.

“Yeah, sure. You take the streets and I’ll take the roofs?” Tony looked down, judging, before humming an affirmative. “Might as well, I don’t have my suit and can’t do as many crazy tricks as you.”

Matt tilted his head, remembering the struggle he had in the beginning to get up to the roof. “How did you get up here, then?” he asked, casting his senses out to make sure that yeah, Tony didn’t have any technology on him besides the essentials.

“Well, you see,” Tony started in a higher octave. Matt raised an eyebrow under the mask, hoping that the subtle twitch of his lip wasn’t as noticeable as it felt. “I  _ did  _ have a suit, but I sent it home after a few minutes. FRI was trying to psychoanalyze me, and I wasn’t in the mood.” 

Not exactly the answer Matt had predicted, but still. It was Tony after all. The man was full of surprises. 

A few minutes after Matt explained to Tony the proper and safest way to get down from the building yielded the billionaire walking the streets of Hell’s Kitchen, soaked to the bone with a smile on his face and a small pep in his step. Matt overshadowed him on the rooftops, staying where nobody could see him unless they were  _ really _ looking. At one point, Tony smirked and said in a low voice, “My own guardian devil,” which caused Matt to almost miss the next flip with how hard he was laughing.

They reached Matt’s apartment at around four thirty, Tony entering through the front door while Matt came through the rooftop access. They met together once more in the middle of the living room, a smile on their faces.

  
“I missed you.” Tony told him.

“Yeah, well it was hard to miss you.” Matt responded with no real heat, clicking off his mask and putting it on the coffee table. A scurrying from Peter’s room echoed throughout the quiet space, before his door opened and revealed the tired teen.

“You two will  _ never believe  _ what I’ve done in the time you’ve been gone,” he started with a gasp. His socked feet padded quickly through the space, long pyjama pants muffling even more of the sound with how they dragged on the floor. “Okay, so, the evil guy right? So his name is--”

He paused, looking between Tony and Matt. Then he sniffed the air.

“Oh.” Was all he said.

_ Oh, shit. _

“ _ Oh,” _ He repeated with more emotion. 

Tony pursed his lips, not comprehending the magnitude of Peter’s enhanced sense of smell. But Matt did. Oh man, he did. He didn’t have to focus very hard to understand how Peter was able to find out about them so soon. Tony smelt of him and he of Tony. 

There wasn’t any escaping this one.

So Matt cleared his throat and felt the beginning of a dark blush trickle up to his cheeks, squeezing his hands into fists before beginning to take off his suit. “You were, uh, saying?” He prompted, feeling the vibrations in the air from where the teen must’ve shaken his head.

“Oh, um, yeah. Er...” Tony felt a smile threaten to spread across his face at the very eloquent response. “So I’m just gonna ignore that for now…” Peter said in a much quieter voice, the words only being heard by the other being with super hearing. 

He clapped his hands together, sleeves of Matt’s oversized sweater-- his brown one, from the smell of it-- sliding from the tips of his fingers to his palms in the motion. “Our guy’s name is Leonard Sanchez. Advanced biochemist, old engineer. Used to be community oriented, spreading positivity and all that jazz with his wife, Anna Sanchez, and their two kids, Bryce and Destiny.”

Matt walked off to his room to properly put his gear away and get a change of clothes, quickly checking the time on his watch and wincing. There wouldn’t be a lot of time in the morning-- or really, in a few hours-- to go over his arguments for their client today. Oh, well he’ll just ask Foggy to debrief him on the big parts and wing the rest. 

Peter continued talking as if he never left, knowing that Matt would be listening. “Family ended up getting crushed by a crumbled building in one of my fights against The Rhino. Vaguely, I remember the exact one. I had a massive bruise running up my spine from the impact for the next week, dudes. That, plus all of the glass I had to peel out afterwards. That was  _ awful. _ But not the point.” He mulled over, scratching the back of his head before pacing. Tony shot him a look at the relayed injuries, before remembering that he wasn’t exactly present at the time that the battle happened. Then he just shrugged to himself, sitting down on the couch and propping his feet up on the coffee table next to the helmet that Matt had forgotten to put up.

“They ended up being Life Flight-ed to Metro General. All of them somehow managed to suffer from memory loss, going as far as not knowing their own family relations. Which is where Leonard comes in as the sole member who hadn’t obtained any injuries, due to being stuck in his lab all day and receiving the call hours later. Apparently my mans looked pretty spooky in all of his biochem gear, because his family was terrified. They were--”

“Peter,” Matt interjected as he walked back in the room, hand over his face and voice dripping with disappointment. “Please, don’t  _ ever  _ refer to villains as ‘my mans.’ For my sake.” 

The teenager snorted, being accompanied by the light sounds of Stark’s laughter. Matt realized that the two noises were his favorite things to hear together, and resolutely made a decision to try to hear it as much as possible. 

“Whatever you say, my dude.” Peter wore a shit-eating grin then, before his face dropped and he started to squint. Matt froze like a deer in headlights before closing his eyes and knowing the jig was up. “You’re holding yourself stiffly. Or really, stiffer than usual,” Peter noted. Now he had Tony’s attention, who had just finished a nice and big yawn that he had been trying to ignore. 

Matt gestured to his back and then his knee. “Crowba’,” Was the only explanation he provided. The singular word was enough to cause a wince of sympathy from Peter, the feeling of a long piece of stupid metal slamming into his body all too familiar. However, Tony just looked at him like he spat on his cat and then proceeded to throw it out of the third story balcony. “Jesus, Murdock. And you still managed to do all those fancy tricks and shit on the rooftops?”

The man in question shrugged, moving to the couch to sit next to Tony as Peter continued his pacing. “It’s been worse. Way worse. A crowbar ain’t shit.” 

Once more, Peter nodded in agreement. Tony’s mouth still remained open with his nose scrunched up, staring between the two like they had grown four heads each. They stayed like that for a few seconds before Matt cleared his throat and gestured for Peter to finish his story.

“Oh! Right!” The teen said, bouncing on his heels. “So, Leonard, right? Guy apparently went berserk in his families’ hospital room. Screaming at them, telling them that the joke wasn’t funny anymore. They could stop pretending that they didn’t know him. His kids were crying and his wife was paging the nurses, terrified. Apparently he had to be escorted out. One nurse almost called the cops on him. Only thing that stopped her was the fact that he literally vanished after that incident.”

“Which was weird, right? Because obviously he was still around. So I drew some conclusions and did a little more research, and found that he had a hidden lair of some sort. Maybe the one that he had brought us to when he captured us? One of the rooms there was probably filled with biochem materials, since he had to have concocted his gas there.” Peter paused for a breath, finally joining the two on the couch and successfully sticking Matt in the middle. The man just harrumphed before moving his arms and extending them to lay on the back of the couch. Almost like it was planned, both Tony and Peter tucked themselves into his sides. 

Matt smiled and tilted his head back, breathing in the mixed scents of two of his most favored people. Tony sighed and snuggled closer, while Peter turned so that he could still gesture towards the ceiling while he spoke. 

“My guess is that during that time of solitude, he went over the fight and decided to blame me for his precarious situation. It checks out with what he had said when we trapped. And!” Peter slapped on Matt’s thigh, and then went to bump on Tony’s shoulder. He received two grunts in reply. “I know where his new hideout is!”

“That’s amazing, Peter,” Matt breathed out. He lifted his head and turned towards Peter, taking a second to hear the teen blink before trying to place his line of sight as close as possible to the sound. “I’m incredibly proud of you. So, so very proud.”

The teen lit up at the praise, smile wider than it had been in weeks. He went to say something when Tony squawked, “Hey, man, that’s my line!” Tony adjusted how he was laying so that he was propped up against his elbow, only able to see half of Peter due to the side of his face being covered by Matt’s pec. “I’m incredibly proud of you,” he relayed in a faux mocking voice, “So, so very proud.”

The three busted into laughter, effectively closing the relaying of information. 

When they calmed down, Peter sighed in content. Matt brought his arm over his shoulders to rub circles on his skin, doing the same to Tony. Tony, who somehow acquired Nugget when they weren’t noticing. Matt didn’t dwell on it, however. And from the happy smile that crossed Peter’s face when he made eye contact with the fluff ball, he didn’t either. They just let the fluffy cat take its place in their family pile.

It was obvious when Spinach got on the couch, though. Unlike her brother, who was stealthy with his approach, she full on plopped herself in the middle of Matt’s lap, effectively taking the center of their group. Peter snorted, before picking up the critter and getting off the furniture. “We should probably head to bed soon,” he commented idly, swaying the cat back and forth while making stupid faces. 

“Yeah, I agree.” To punctuate his sentence, Tony let out another yawn. Nugget licked his poor smashed face, unamused. 

A low groan came from Matt as he removed his arms from the back of the couch and hauled himself up, pain catching up with him in the way his knees threatened to buckle. “Who’s sleeping where?”

“My room.”

“Your room.”

Both boys responded at the same time. Then they turned to each other. Matt raised an eyebrow at the interaction curiously. Peter squinted at Tony before lifting an accusing finger towards him and then wiggling it in Matt’s direction. “No funny business, bitches.”

That startled a chuckle out of Matt and a full on roar from Tony. The sentiment was meant to be taken seriously, but the subtle tilt in Peter’s lip that he so desperately tried to hide revealed the playfulness for what it truly was. 

“Cross my heart.” Matt made the motion, flashing him one of his devilish smiles. Peter’s heart stuttered for a second oddly in time with Tony’s, before choosing to comment.

“I’m not sure if that was a joke or not, so I’m just going to take it for what it is.”

Tony finally peeled himself off of the couch, contorting to pop his back before fully righting himself. “Whatever makes you sleep better, squirt.” He then passed Matt and headed towards his room, not even turning around when he said “I’m stealing some of your clothes.”

Matt stood still for a few seconds, and then sighed. Tilted his head down and drooped his body.

“What is it with everyone stealing my clothes? Is it, like, my fashion sense?” Then, quieter, “Oh God, is this what being the man of the household is like?”

Peter wheezed his way to his bedroom, kitten in hand with the second following closely behind.

_____

  
  


“Tony?”

A shuffle. “Yes?”

Tentativeness. A pause. Unsure of an answer, or a delay in wanting to ask?

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

Bed sheets moving, silk blanket falling. A low hum of an arc reactor, the languid wisps of sleep clouding the room. 

Contact. Tony’s arm moving over his chest, body sliding next to his. An arm moved for more access, now allowing him to place his head over the slow heartbeat that sounded louder than anything else in the room. 

A kiss to the mechanics head. Quick, an impulse decision. Then another, longer. 

“More sure than anything else.”

The sheets settled, and Matt sighed. Closed his eyes and continued to see exactly what he had prior to the motion. Slow fingers drawing lazy patterns in the smaller’s shoulder. 

Calmness defeating anxiety. Light outside slowly eating up the darkness in the room.

Together, they slept.

  
  


______

  
  


In the wake of the morning, Matt had to slip out of bed and leave Tony by himself.

The man grumbled as he started to wake, but Matt just leaned over and carded his hands through his hair. “Shh,” he quietly said, pecking the top of his head. “Go back to sleep, I’ll be back.” 

He continued with his motions until Tony settled back down, slipping back into a deep sleep. Probably unaware of his moment of wakefulness, most likely not going to retain the information when he fully woke up. 

Matt grabbed his work suit along with his wallet, cane, and glasses, before extricating himself from the room. He cast his senses out and noticed that Peter was already in the shower, getting ready to hop out judging by the way his hand fluttered over the nobs. Knowing he needed to turn them to stop the warm water, but building up the power to kiss the comfort goodbye. The thought brought a smile to Matt’s face. 

He set his stuff down on the coffee table and dully noticed that he left his mask out over the night. Choosing not to possibly disturb the man in his room once more, he instead settled for a short term solution and stuffed it in one of the many drawers in the kitchen. Eh, hopefully he’ll remember it and find it before one of the others do. That’d be kind of awkward to explain.

By the time Peter hopped out of the shower and got himself ready, Matt had already finished preparing a light breakfast of yogurt and fruit parfait, along with an extra few granola bars on the side for the teen to snack on during the day. 

They exchanged good mornings and then traded places, Matt heading to the shower while Peter ate the food and then cleaned the dishes used, preparing something small for the older to eat some time during the recess at court.

Matt didn’t take nearly as much time in the shower as Peter did, so it was only about twenty or thirty minutes from the time he woke up to when they left. They walked side by side down the streets of Hell’s Kitchen, Peter with two fingers wrapped in the crook of Matt’s elbow under the guise of leading him. 

“That was cute as fuck,” Peter randomly said as they turned the street. Matt tapped his finger against his cane, which was slanted across his body with the end nearly touching the ground facing Peter’s direction.

“What was?” he asked curiously, smelling the fresh bagels in the office that Foggy had bought and probably hoped to surprise them with. A smile flit across his face, especially when he heard the wonderfully creative string of curses that the native Hell’s Kitchen boy managed to pull together through stress alone. “Also, watch your language,” he chided as an afterthought, “You’ve been letting it loose a bit more than usual these past couple of hours.”

“Sorry, I’ve just been nervous and excited to catch this guy. And then get your memories back! Plus, then I’d get some insight on how to create an actual memory forgetting gas. You think that I could manufacture it and make billions?” Peter was practically vibrating at Matt’s side, a skip threatening to take over his step. The only thing stopping him was the fact that he had to keep up the pretense of leading the blind.

“No, I don’t think you can.” Matt tilted his head as they got down the block the firm was at, noticing how Karen had only just arrived. She, too, brought something for everyone to have for breakfast. Except her gift was coffee, rather than something to munch on. Should he have brought something?

“Dang, that’s a bummer. I thought I was hacking the system with that thought.” The words were morphed through a pout that brought a smile on Matt’s face. “Oh, and to answer your earlier question, you and Tony. I was in the shower just listening to New York and seeing how far I could go if I focused on my hearing alone when I heard you waking up and getting out of bed. Brought a smile to my face and squeezed my lonely heart.”

At that, Matt chuckled. Out of embarrassment or of genuine hilarity, he didn’t know. “Lord, help me,” he pretended to whine, stepping up the stairs and holding the door open for Peter. The teen passed him and said his thanks, taking a deep breath in before shouting to announce his presence to the other two, who responded in same. 

Matt tilted his head and stood at the door for a second, thinking. Peter seemed awfully relaxed about him and Tony and whatever they were. Incredibly relaxed. Almost too good to be true. Did the teen really accept them that easily, accept the change that’d probably alter their lives just as much as his? Or was he just repressing his thoughts and focusing on the bigger picture, capturing the villain?

Karen called his name and mentioned that there was a coffee that was beckoning for him to drink it, so he started to move once more.

  
  


_____

  
  
  


Court was, once again, a win.

Matt delivered the opening speech with shocking ferocity, a complete one eighty from his laughing and joking demeanor right outside the doors. Foggy had a smug smile on his face, while Karen and Peter struggled to keep their awe off of theirs. 

Just from that, they could tell that the jury was hooked.

Yet throughout the day, Matt would slam points down like nails and Foggy would come up and bash them in with a hammer. The two were a force of fury, demanding innocence for the elder lady that they were representing. Karen wrote down interesting facts and ticks she noticed from every single person in the room, while Peter fluttered around and took pictures that would later be uploaded on his account. 

When a thirty minute lunch recess was called, people milled around the lawyer crew and were asking for their cards. Just in case they end up in a tough spot, they wanted Nelson and Murdock to represent them.

Matt told them that they would get a discount if they checked out Peter’s article from the court case whenever it was uploaded.

The people cooed. Peter punched him in the arm and told them that it wasn’t necessary, they could come in and mention being present for the case to get the discount. Foggy and Karen agreed with him.

After the crowd was gone and the lawyers and friends were able to sit, Peter pulled out one of the granola bars that Matt had set out that morning, as well as one of the wraps he made for Matt. He gave the man the food, and then asked the other two if they wanted a granola bar to go with whatever they were having. They both declined with warm smiles.

Peter nodded and then decided to check his phone, spying a message from Tony telling him to have a good day. And also that he brought Nugget to S.I., and he had been declared the national pet. The interns were nearly crying after getting to pet him, and his scientists who were on the verge of mental breakdowns were gaining some semblance of normalcy after hearing the kitten purr. 

Nugget had a huge family to attend to, it seemed.

The teen relayed all of the information to the group, watching as Karen lit up and Foggy slowly twisted his face in confusion. 

“Why does it sound like Stark only has extremely emotional people on his payroll?” He questioned, directing it at Peter.

He got a shrug in reply. “You think It’s easy to keep your mental health up when you’re working in the most technologically advanced research corporation in the world? Hell no, man. I can name so many occasions that I walked down there and had to calm down full grown adults because they had a screw that was a millimeter too big for their microscopic project. It’s insane.”

Foggy continued to look baffled, but left it alone after that.

Matt started talking about the trial with the blond afterwards, making faces each time Foggy talked with food in his mouth. Karen hid her smile with her hand, knowing that the blind man would still know of her hidden amusement. 

It was nice.

Warm. Comforting. Normal, a feeling of domesticity that Peter was a little happy to know extended throughout the group no matter where they were. 

He went on his phone for the rest of the break and looked up everything he could find that may aid them in their mission later on tonight.

_____

  
  
  


“We should get drinks,” Foggy said immediately after leaving the doors of the court house. 

The rest of the trial went off without a hitch, even with the other side throwing curve balls that would’ve knocked any lesser attorney on their asses. But all Matt did was flash one of his devilish grins and turn it back on them, leaving the crowd awed and the other lawyers blundering around trying to find their way out of the predicament they had gotten tangled up in.

“I agree.” Karen moved her briefcase from one hand to the other, pushing her hair from out of her face. She was on the outside of their line, taking Peter’s side while the teen took Matt’s. Foggy was on the other end, arm laced with Matt as they made their way down the steps. 

“You always agree, your opinion is invalid.” Peter rolled his eyes, a smile tugging his face. Karen gasped in faux offense, slapping his arm with her briefcase. 

“You take that back, mister!”

“I think you guys’ll have to go without Pete and I,” Matt cut in, tilting his head up towards the sky. The temperature had dropped by two degrees, and moisture hung in the air. It’d rain again, probably lasting the night once more. “We have some important business to attend to tonight.”

Peter tilted his head after being on the spot like that. Forgetting any and all thoughts he may have had, he simply asked “We do?” Looking at Matt in hopes the blind man would catch his momentary brain fart. He caught the ‘are you fucking stupid’ look that he got in response, and then his brain helpfully supplied the very thing that he had been excited for; catching Leonard. “Oh, we do!”

Instantly his cheer and pep were back, and he dutifully ignored the way Foggy laughed at his sudden shift. “Alright then, that just means more for us!” He finger gunned and winked at Karen, receiving a laugh in return. 

“It’s not like I could’ve joined you guys, anyways. Even if my age was ignored, I’d just metabolize the drink like it was water.” They all had stopped in a little circle at the bottom of the stairs, waiting on the nearest taxi to come so that they could flag it down and hitch a ride. 

Karen lifted one side of her top lip, scrunching up her nose. “That sucks.” Then, realizing what-- and more importantly,  _ who--  _ she was talking about, corrected herself. “I mean, that  _ would  _ suck if you were able to drink. But you aren’t. And you can’t…yeah.”

Silence stretched between the group for a few seconds, before everyone burst out into laughter. People passing by looked at them like they were annoying tourists, but none of them paid attention. 

“Karen, just stop talking. Never talk again, you’re too awkward for it.” Peter said, sending the group into a fit of giggles once more. Karen’s face was red, making her blue eyes pop out even more. 

Just then, a taxi pulled up. “Ah, yes!” Foggy exclaimed, opening the door and motioning for the group to get in. “A ride meant for victors!” The driver shot them a look from the front, but otherwise remained silent.

Karen got in the cab first, before being followed by Matt. Peter went to take a step in, before realizing that there wouldn’t be any room for Foggy if he did so. He hesitated, looking towards Matt in the cab and Foggy outside waiting patiently, before sighing. 

“You guys go on ahead,” he told them. “I’ll do my thing to get home.” 

Foggy looked confused for a second, before realization struck upon his face. “Oh! You have your--”

“Yes,” Peter told him.

His heart skipped.

Matt turned to look at him in accusation.

“Alright, then. Suit yourself! Make it home safe!” Foggy waved him away, before clambering in the vehicle and closing the door, effectively cutting out the protests that had started to spew from Matt’s throat. 

Peter sighed and watched the cab drive away, Matt squinting in his general direction the entire way. Truly, he should feel guilty for lying. He didn’t have his suit under his spiffy business attire, but Foggy didn’t need to know. 

With a turn, he started walking back home.

_____

“I don’t know what to expect when we get in there, but I do know this: our endgame is getting a cure.”

Peter, Tony, and Matt were all gathered in the living room. The sun had set roughly an hour and a half ago, leaving the room to be cast in the muted purple colors from the billboard adjacent. The only sounds that filled the area was a pelting of rain drops on the glass walls, mixing with the breaths of the three occupants.

Tony nodded to Peter’s words, while Matt shifted his weight onto one leg, crossing his arms over his chest defensively. Preparing himself for what they were going to pull off. When he spoke, his voice was low and dark, barely touching the Daredevil growl.

“We need to be quiet about this. In and out, no distractions. Leonard isn’t someone to fuck with, he has a bioweapon that could potentially be released into the air and ruin entire civilizations. All that was needed was time for him to perfect the formula, and that was exactly what he had.”

The kittens were split between Foggy and Karen, he with Spinach and Fork and her with Nugget and Spoons. There was no guarantee any of them would be coming back the next day, or even the next week. If the two were to find out about their failed mission, then at least there would be a safe house for the small animals. 

“Outside the building we can do reconnaissance, get digital blueprints for us to see what exactly is inside. Matt, you can sense everything at that point. We spend a minimum of twenty minutes going over tactics, looking at possible escape routes, and planning on who is going where.”

Peter looked at Tony, eyebrows furrowing. “Would splitting up be the smartest option?”   
  
Matt answered the question for him. “Depends on the space and the number of occupants. If he’s alone, then I say we stay together. But if the building is large and there’s multiple hostiles, I say we split. But, at the least, have a clear destination to meet up at.”

Tony nodded, feeling the beginning of adrenaline starting to make its way through his veins. “We also need a back up plan for if we fail.”

“We won’t.”

Matt pursed his lips. “We can’t be certain of that, Peter. We failed before.”

“But last time it was just me!” He raised his voice slightly, turning his body to face Matt’s. The man had the glass wall behind him, looking unfairly like a portrait. From the defensive position to the shadows that took over his form and gave him a dour aura. “Last time, you two couldn’t get out. Last time, I was the one who he had focused on.  _ This time,  _ he’ll be hit with all three of us. Daredevil and his strength, Iron Man and his intelligence, and Spiderman and his resilience. This time, we’ll win.”

Tony had a pull of a smile, stress threatening to wipe it off seconds after it was formed. “How about we have a special term, something we can call out whenever things start turning for the worse. Just to let the others know to get the fuck out before it all turns to shit.”

The rain sounded a lot heavier than it really was. Like a thousand bass drums pounding as hard as they possibly could, vibrations echoing in Matt’s mind and sending shrills up his spine. “What about ‘get the fuck out’?”

He got a snort and a hard exhale of air, but no objections. He shrugged, deciding to take that as the term.

Tony walked closer, making the triangular space between them smaller with each step. Once he got to a reasonable distance, he stopped and stuck his hand out in the form of a fist bump. He looked at Peter expectantly, and then took a quick glance at Murdock.

Peter got the message, moving and raising his own fist until it rested next to Tony’s. Matt tilted his head in a questioning gesture, before realizing what they were trying to do. 

He moved slowly, lips pursed and gait stiff. His fist was bruised and scabby, but still fit with the others presented. 

Now, fist bump circle completed, Tony spoke up. “This’ll change our lives either for the better or the worse. Regardless, I know that we’re capable of coming out of this stronger than before.”

As he swallowed back any other words that tried climbing up his throat, Matt picked up on the speech. “Leonard thought he could make us fall last time. He thought that he would be ruining our relationships, our lives.”

Peter nudged the other two’s fists, a smile spreading against his face. 

The purple of the billboard changed into a dark red, an ad for some type of soda showing up. 

The rain continued to echo throughout the space.

Their shadows mixed together to create a team of heroes, a family. 

“Let’s go get this son of a bitch.”

_____

Tony tapped on his arc reactor, feeling the way the nanotech slid over his clothes like a second skin. From the center of his chest, to his arms, his legs, and then eventually his face. The sound of the manual interface powering up was like music to his ears, disrupting the loud and heavy beating of his heart. Instantly as the face plate materialized over him, he was greeted with copious screens filled with information that Peter had sent him.

Peter was in his own room, putting on his suit and triple checking all of his work. Even taking the time to talk to Karen about the information, the A.I. trying her best to follow his thinking pattern and offer up anything that he may not have thought of. Distantly, the teen wondered if praying would be too over the top for their mission; playing it up as more than it was. Yet he found no harm in doing so, taking a few moments of silence to ask for protection.

Matt was wrapping his fists up, only wearing his black under armor. He spent the first little bit meditating and focusing his inner self, making sure that he was at the top of his game for the mission they were about to pull off. He, too, took some time to ask God for protection over them for the night, saying a few Hail Mary’s just in case. 

Tony walked up behind Matt as he finished with his praying, placing his armored hands on his hips. The man chuckled, and then let out a quiet gasp as Tony leaned forward and let the nanotech dematerialize from his head, placing a butterfly kiss over Matt’s neck. The sound made Tony smile even more, kissing him up and down. 

Matt turned around in his grasp and wrapped his own arms around Tony’s shoulders, linking his hands together behind his head. “I need to finish getting my armor on,” Matt tried to say. However he lost his point when he moved forward and stole a kiss from the engineer.

“Mmmm, you can wait a few minutes,” Tony kissed him once more, loving the way Matt’s smile felt on his lips. The grip on his hips tightened slightly, pushing the man back until his back was against the wall. Matt tilted his head and deepened the kiss, letting out a quiet noise at the new position. 

Tony’s hands were about to start venturing up and feeling up Matt’s abs when Peter’s muffled voice cut through the walls. “Please! Don’t do that! When I’m awake! Or even in the house!”

Matt startled at the sudden noise, breaking apart from Tony. Then, the two laughed. They were still close together, less than an inch separating them from kissing once more. The heat that radiated off of Tony’s face felt like the antithesis of his armor, which felt like ice needles on Matt’s sensitive skin. 

“Looks like we’ll just have to wait until tomorrow, isn’t that right?” Tony asked in a low octave, husk sending thrills up Matt’s entire body and lighting him up in a way in a way that he’s never felt before.

His words, although seemingly simple, carried a heavy weight to them. A promise for continuance, a plea that they would remember this night in the morning. A strong front made to hide the absolute terror and anxiety that filled his veins on the bridge of spilling out.

Matt nodded. Gave Tony his confirmation that things would turn out alright, that they would be okay. That they would battle for the night, but rest in the morning.    
  
“Yeah, that’s right.”

He smiled once more and took that centimeter gap, stealing another moment and reveling in the feeling before they ventured on.

_____

  
  
  


Peter swung his way to Midtown, while Matt took to the sky via Iron Man. 

The man wasn’t very happy with being carried, less so when the wind whipped his helmet and felt like icy pellets against his armored skin. Plus, coupled with the rain, Matt thought that he would die on the trip alone.

His senses were screaming and oddly, he couldn’t feel the tips of his fingers, but Tony was there and telling him that he’d be alright. So Matt latched onto the sound of his voice like it was his life line, trying and failing to block out every other thing that was going on.

The ride was only twenty something odd minutes, and Matt stumbled the moment they hit the rooftop of a building a block away from Leonard’s hideout. “ _ Holy fuck _ ,” he got out, before having to lean forward and put his arms against the side of the roof lip, taking deep breaths to try to reorient his world. 

Tony had tapped his arc reactor and called all of the nanoparticles back home, coming up by Matt. Raised an arm and almost put it on his shoulder, before hesitating and wondering if that was the best thing to do when he was trying to balance out his senses.    
  
He could make a joke in the moment, either regarding the previous statement or the disorientation of The Great Daredevil. Yet the concern that ran through his nerves kept him from making any stupid comment, instead asking softly if the man was okay.

“Yeah, yeah,” Matt responded with a half-hearted wave of a hand, keeping his head hanging. “I’ll be fine in a few minutes.” 

Peter thwipped his way on the roof, landing and immediately striding over to their position. “First flight?” Hh asked with a tilt of his head. He received the bird in response, which was enough of an answer to morph the bottom half of his mask into what could only be assumed was a smile.

They stood there, waiting on Matt to be able to sense everything once more, before moving forward. Tony brought his armor out once again and turned it on ‘ninja mode,’ which made the nanoparticles morph from their familiar red and gold hues to an almost reflective color, the suit adapting to Tony’s every movement in the environment and perfectly matching what it was supposed to be.

“Wow,” Peter breathed out. “Can I have a suit and have it do that?” 

Tony, under his armored faceplate, smiled. “Sure squirt. You’ll just have to be the one to build it.”

Peter let out a squeal and did a little dance in place, obviously not catching the sarcasm that dripped with each word. Not catching, or choosing to ignore. Either worked.

Matt careened his head to the side, still sensing the exact location of the armor. “Am I missing something?” He asked the group, bottom half of his face twisted in confusion. 

Peter and Tony realized that the camouflage wouldn’t exactly be cool to a blind man, since, in the most horrible of terms, everything was kinda camouflaged to them. 

“Nope,” Tony said with a raised brow.

“Nothing,” Peter chirped.

Both of their hearts stuttered, and Matt’s lips turned into a very disapproving line. 

It was amazing how just the bottom half of a face could portray such emotion.

“Let’s get going!” Peter almost yelled out of nervousness. “Beat you guys to the rooftop on 43rd and 1st!”

He stuck out his arm and shot a web, grabbing onto the strand and flinging himself off of the building faster than Matt could blink. Then, he sighed. “He’s going to the wrong building.”

Tony laughed as he flew forward, going in the planned direction. “Looks like you may actually beat him, then!”

Matt ran forward and flipped off of the roof, landing on the next with effortless grace. “I’ll give it twenty seconds before he realizes.”

Tony ended up getting to the right roof first, followed closely by a frazzled Peter. Matt was only a few seconds behind, taking his time in unfamiliar territory. 

It seemed like the building carried its own atmosphere, stripping the team of the happy go lucky attitude that they carried moments prior. Instead, they all morphed into the darker side of themselves. The one that Daredevil slipped into when going after gangs of rapists, the one that Spiderman had only been rumored to have. The one that Iron Man had only shown in the face of world ending threats.

Strong walks, power exuding from every pore. Tight fists– sharp, yet fluid movements. Nothing about them showed the lovable heroes that everyone believed them to be. Rather, the deepest incarnates of who they could be. 

The personal devils that they carried around. The ones that grabbed at their spines and chewed its way through their ribs, trying to get out of the confines that they were placed in. The dark and horrid creatures that festered under the surface, one bad day away from completely ripping their owners apart and reincarnating in the aftermath. 

Daredevil, Iron Man, and Spiderman all collectively handed the keys to their creatures, letting the devils out. Giving them control. Choosing to step back and let them go absolutely ape shit, the rare breath of fresh air rejuvenating the blood thirsty soul that they were.

“Forty-seven people inside, thirty-three of them armed,” Daredevil informed them, leaning against the side of the roof lip. His head was twisting and turning every couple of seconds, catching a new sound to latch onto. “They’re talking about the gas, distributing it out to the highest bidder.”

Iron Man stiffened from behind him, asking his AI to pull up a digital map of the building. It looked like a regular business, filled with office cubicles and multiple floors. Long hallways that led to varying sizes of rooms, over half of them containing a red dot symbolizing a person. Spiderman walked over to view the map, squinting and taking what he could hear and applying it to what he could see. “We’d need to split up to cover all of the ground. Are we taking everyone out or only him?”   
  
There wasn’t any clarification needed for who ‘he’ was. Double D took a few seconds to respond, listening to all of the conversations from inside. “We’ll do this quietly. The less noise, the less suspicion. If we get caught, then it’s on sight, ya’ hear?”

The two behind him nodded, the slightly mechanical voice of Iron Man cutting through the air once more. “Do we know which room the gas is in? And do we know if Leonard is even there?”

To answer that, they both turned to the spider themed vigilante. He was the only one who remembered what the villain sounded like. The only one who knew his general stature, whatever mannerisms he exhibited in the limited amount of time that they had been in his presence.

Spiderman crouched on the lip of the building next to Daredevil, closing his eyes and letting a deep breath out. 

Distantly, he noted that tonight wasn’t much different from the one that started all of this. The rescuing of the girls those weeks ago. In fact, if he were dwelling on it, he’d say that the events were kind of eerily similar.

A part of him screamed that they were completely different.

He didn’t listen.

Instead, he thought of all of the sessions that he and Matt had taken together to hone his senses. All of the quiet mornings, sitting cross-legged across from each other. Hands palm up, pointer fingers touching the tips of thumbs. Soft breathing, closed eyes. A mat under them, the smell of incense burning off in the distance. 

“ _ Focus,”  _ Matt would whisper. “ _ You control your senses, they don’t control you.” _

Another exhale, this time pushing his lips off of his teeth. 

The sound of rain. Click-clack of heels. Conversations of varying importance. The smell of oil, redwood, cedar, and jasmine. The way his suit clung to his skin due to the sky falling. The weight of his web shooters.

A tall body. A familiar voice. 

Peter opened his eyes.

  
“I found him.”

Daredevil grinned at the aspect of his prey being caught. Iron Man tilted his head in a nod, waiting for more information that would help them know what Peter did.

“Six foot two, second floor. Smells of sweat and energy drinks. Currently pacing, on the phone? I can’t tell. Probably talking to himself.” 

He waited a few seconds for the others to lock in on Leonard, before straightening out his back and puffing out his chest, becoming the embodiment of strong willed and unbreakable. The other two heroes next to him did the same, a trio of suits blending into the black of the night in varying degrees. 

Daredevil put a hand on Iron Man’s arm. Tony took Matt’s hand and squeezed. They shared a quick moment to breathe, before the armored man whispered, “Be safe.”

Matt smiled crookedly in reply. 

“Am I ever?”

_____

  
  


There was once a point in Matt’s life where he could see something other than black.

After that day when the chemicals burned his eyes and left the nine year old version of himself begging to see the sky one last time. After all the gauze wrapped around his face, suffocating and killing him, despite not covering his mouth or nose. After his father had died, blood pooling around him and onto Matt’s knees, hands gently yet frantically ghosting over his broken and too-cold face.

Before Stick left him to his own devices, crushed up paper bracelet left on the floor for Matt to pick up. Before he trained by himself in the basement of the church, listening to Father Lantom preach mass a floor above. Before he considered his senses to be a new way to see the world in its entirety, rather than the simplicity that Stick had shown.

For a while, if he concentrated, Matt could see the void.

It differed in colors that he couldn’t discern, yet somehow distinctly knew. If questioned, there was no way in hell that he would be able to list out what they reminded him of, a confusing mix of uncertainty and sureness. 

The enigma of the void was enticing each and every time Matt saw it, colors and scents and feelings all blending together to form a picture that seemed to pull him in. 

At times, he would want to take a step forward. Just to lose himself for a few blissful seconds, to get washed away from everything going on. To let the mix of everything wash over his skin and bathe him into a new man. To give in to the temptation that pulled at his guts, yelling at him to slip away.

Other times, he wanted to run far as he could. Away from the unsureness of the void, ignoring the sense that the void was everything he could possibly want. He’d shy from the colors and stiffen at the sounds, feeling cold yet hot at the same time. 

But each and every time that Matt let himself fall, standing in the great unknown between his world of black and the void, he found that his feet wouldn’t move. 

No matter how hard he tried, his legs would remain locked up. Neither taking a step forward or backwards, always staying in exactly the same location. 

Matt would be facing the void with his feet planted on the floor, staying in place. He would never speak, but his mind would  _ sing.  _ It would rat him out about his worries and problems, waxing poetics to the one thing that would listen. 

The voice in his brain would bellow haunting melodies and wistful tunes, and the void would sing back in perfect harmony, synchronizing the pitch and matching each note with shocking ferocity. 

It gave Matt an outlet in his chaotic world, something to comfort him that wasn’t in the form of pitying touches or disgusted glares that prickled his skin and made him clench his hands. 

Yet the void was just that; a void. A place where reality seemed non-existent and the population always remained at zero. And when he realized that he could never walk forward, he would open his eyes and greet the black that filled his eyesight once more.

He was reminded of the feeling of nothing yet everything when he was sneaking through the building with Iron Man and Spiderman joining him at different points. 

Every single one of his working senses were in overdrive, taking everything in and processing it quickly and efficiently. Mapping out the entire building along with all of the occupants. From the rapid heartbeat of the young female on the second floor who spilled coffee over her desk due to the shakiness in her hands, to the scampering sound of the short haired rat stuck in a glass tank, whiskers moving in rapid succession with each quiet step. 

But most importantly, he heard Leonard.

Heard the heavy footsteps as they echoed off of the marble flooring, painting the room in soundwaves. Matt listened as he talked to himself, spewing equations and probabilities that didn’t make sense to his ears. Through his gloves, he could feel the vibrations of his every breath. But that was only if he concentrated solely on the man, which Matt couldn’t afford to do with so many people walking the corridors. 

He sniffed, and he could recognize the man's scent. It lingered throughout the building, painting his trek for the day. Like a ghost through the hallways. The distinct smell of body odor badly hidden through a weak layer of cheap deodorant and even cheaper cologne. The overpowering sugary energy drink, as potent as everything else. The smells gripped the man everywhere. His hair, his clothes, his legs. 

Tracking him wasn’t proving hard for Daredevil. No, the hard part was hiding in plain sight.

From what he knew, his suit was covered in dark reds and blacks. And from what he had gathered from the nearly imperceptible waves bouncing off of the walls every time he tapped, the surfaces of everything in the building were white. Coupled with the fact that all he had to dodge into were rooms that were filled with people, Matt had practically nowhere to run without sticking out like a sore thumb.

Last he checked, Spiderman had taken the best route by traveling through the vents. Matt presumed that he should’ve done the same, but then he realized that they weren’t exactly big enough for a full grown man to fit into. Only a nimble teenager who had a knack for sticking onto surfaces.

Iron Man, the smarter one of the two, was simply walking through the corridors. Only dodging the occasional person, somehow remaining completely silent in his steps. Only almost slipping past him because of how focused Matt had been on tracking everything else around him.

_ An invisible suit would do me wonders,  _ he thought in slight wonderment.

Slowly they were all making their way to the room that housed their prey. With each careful step, each raised bump in the textured wall that they passed, each new hallway. They were making progress, and that was more than enough to keep them going.

“Anyone busted yet?” Spiderman asked through the comm. Iron Man was the one to answer with a negative, taking a few seconds before whispering. Probably due to a group who just so happened to walk by. 

Matt didn’t have a comm, saying that the buzzing sound would be distracting more than anything. But the other two knew that he could at least hear them, so he would be filled in. Tony had given him a button, though. To let them know if he was compromised. 

That button burned like the butt of a cigarette every time Matt had to hold his breath, dodging into the nearest room or closest hallway so as to not get caught by a group of goons as they walked by.

Although he knew that he could take all of them down if he so pleased, the logical side of his brain told him to hold off. Because even though the strongest person to walk by was still weaker than any of the ninjas he usually had to face, the sheer amount of people that would come flooding would surely attract Leonard’s attention to their superhero gang’s infiltration.

“How close are you?” Iron Man asked, voice sounding loud enough that Matt actually had to check to make sure the man wasn’t behind him. He then chastised himself for zoning in on Tony and abandoning his surroundings so quickly, making a special note to cast his senses in the area immediate to make sure that he didn’t miss anything. 

Spiderman answered, a small scuffle coming through the comms. “Just got to the second floor.” A pause, then, “Daredevil is four hallways away, he’ll probably get there at the same time as me.” 

Matt breathed out through his nose, steps falling silently on the flooring. His arm was outstretched with his fingers barely grazing the wall, using the raised bumps as a sort of guide. The vibrations of everything around him echoed off and through them, telling a story that only he could feel. 

Above him, he could hear skittering.

The trek to the room felt like ages, each and every one of those seconds bringing more tension. By the time he finally made it to the door, Matt felt like his fingers would crack and break with how hard he was clenching his fists. 

Footsteps behind him. Quiet, sure. Much unlike they were days ago, when their owner was closing the distance between them. Daredevil didn’t have to turn around to know Iron Man had made it, and didn’t have to listen hard to hear when he turned off the reflective panels on his suit to make the red and gold hues that he heard so much about prominent once more.

Above him, Peter nodded. 

  
Matt repeated the motion, telling the spider that he was ready. Tony grit his teeth behind him, making the same motion.

He lifted his foot up and slammed it into the door, breaking it off of its hinges as Spiderman burst from the ceiling above, landing in his classic hero pose. One leg outstretched, the other bent like a frog. Five fingers barely touching the floor, the other hand raised high above his head. 

Leonard’s heartbeat jumped and stuttered at the sight. Matt kept the satisfied smirk off of his face, especially reveling in the way Tony’s blasters on his hands fired up. The heat radiated onto the back of Matt’s body, distinct whine echoing through the space of his mind. 

They didn’t have long before someone came to investigate the loud noise, but it didn’t matter. All that mattered was the fact that Leonard was less than thirty feet away. In all of his mysteriousness, all of his tricks. He was here, and he was going  _ down.  _

“Did you think we wouldn’t find you?” Spiderman asked. His voice was starkly different from the regular happy-go-lucky bravado he usually left for the crowds. Instead, it was closer to Daredevil’s. Dark, gravelly, and absolutely terrifying.

Quietly, Tony’s heart rushed. The sound was barely there, being covered by the hum of the arc reactor and the waves of the nanoparticles all intermingling together. But it was enough to tell Matt that the tone was a new one to everyone in the room but himself. 

The smell of chips and stale bread wafted through Matt’s nose, and less than a second later Leonard started speaking. “Ah, Spiderman! I was hoping you would show up once more. However, I wasn’t planning on the other two…” Iron Man bristled at the comment, pushing past Daredevil to stand next to Spiderman, who still had yet to rise from his crouched position.

“Yeah, and why is that?” He challenged, gauntlets never lowering. “Think your special little gas worked? Made us forget about Spiderman?” 

Matt stalked his way into the room slowly, head lowered as he listened outside. They only had about a minute before someone walked down the hallway, and about an extra fifteen seconds before they realized that the door wasn’t open because someone left it that way. 

Something told him that the man was looking at him, analyzing, yet Matt didn’t let it deter him from going around the perimeter. Staying close to the shadows out of habit more than anything. 

“You see, a part of me was hoping that it worked,” Leonard started, hands clapping before lowering into his lab coat. Daredevil tensed, thinking he was grabbing a hidden gun or something that could’ve potentially incapacitated any one of them, but realized that the movement was more for show than anything. The others tensed as well, and it wasn’t until he gave a subtle shake of his head for them to think they were still relatively okay. “So desperately, I wanted it to work. That way, all of my bug problems would’ve been solved.”

Peter got up after that, shoulders still squared. Everything about him screamed hostility, and it was only then that Matt realized how much of a mix their trio was.

Spiderman was usually the public favorite, doing flips and tricks for cameras and buying ice cream for everyone who mimicked his famous hand motion when shooting webs. Yet when he was with them, he was arguably the most dangerous looking. Nimble figure staying eerily still, like nothing could sway him. Shoulders tight and ready to hold the world. Chin raised defiantly in a challenge, and his posture screaming a promise of losing for anyone who dared go against him.

Iron Man was the middle ground. You either hated him or loved him, with no in between. He dealt with major criminals and world ending threats, only occasionally helping the common folk. He cracked jokes and worked with the big leagues, suit of armor shattering all boundaries that the world had on technology. Yet now, as he stood in a rinky dinky office of a small time criminal, everything about him seemed shifted. The heat from his gauntlets and arc reactor felt hotter than they ever had, telling Matt that they were cranked up to a higher power level. His voice was like steel, no hints or random nicknames to lighten the mood and make it seem like a carefree takedown. Here, now? Iron Man felt like what the media described him as; cold, harsh, unable to think of the smaller picture after being so focused on the bigger.

And Daredevil? He was the worst of the three. Localized to only operate in one place, only having a few fans despite being at the game for longer than the other two. He let his fists take control and beat down criminals, deciding for themselves when enough was enough. The anger, the rage that filled his veins was clear in the amount of broken bones left for hospitals. Unpredictable in nature. 

He was the one who had changed the least in the moment. Just like every other night, he was poised and ready to strike. Every movement calculated, every twitch of the head quick and almost imperceptible. He stuck to the darkest parts of the room and let his presence be felt rather than heard. 

All three of them, however, still had one thing in common with their usual selves. They were all ready for anything and everything that was inevitably going to be thrown at them. Ready for the fight, ready to twist and kick like their lives depended on it, despite the blood that may be shed, the bruises that will light up their bodies in hues of purples and blues and yellows, the future creaking bones. 

They were all prepared for whatever may happen. For the endgame. 

“And you’re pleased it didn’t?” Peter growled, fingers twitching above the trigger for his web shooters. “Is this some sick joke to you?” 

Footsteps down the hallway, before they turned around and went down the next. A mistake in direction. A few extra seconds.

Leonard smiled once more and it took everything in Daredevil to hold back the devil that tried to lunge forward and give the man the right hook of his  _ life _ . “I’m pleased by the progress that I’ve been able to make after seeing how the first test worked out.” He ignored the second question Peter asked like he never heard it, walking towards the desk in the far corner.

Matt grabbed his billy club so that he could squeeze something else, the thought of breaking his weapons seeming better long term rather than his fingers. Tony huffed, walking slowly in an arch. Always keeping his gauntlets on his target, adjusting his position in the room so that he wouldn’t have to turn around and risk being shot or overwhelmed after they get found out. 

“So, what? You’ve managed to alter the chemical equation of your little experiment so that it would fail once more? Sounds like a waste of time to me.” The voice coming from the Iron Man suit was Tony’s, yet had a metallic ring to it. Altering the wavelengths, adding more weight. Quieter, so that the man in front couldn’t hear, Tony asked his AI to pull up the schematics from the last gas that they managed to pull from his system and get ready to compare it to the newer. Behind him, Peter asked his to do the same.

“Ah, but not quite,” Leonard spoke, muscles in his arms shifting with his stance. “See, Stark, the failure of my original work merely opened my eyes to new possibilities of what I could do!” He gestured wildly at the table, arms flailing. Yet in a split second, the solid sound of a  _ thwip!  _ echoed throughout the space, the smell of chemicals painting a line straight from Spiderman's web shooters to the now captured hand on the desk.

“Any more quick movements from you and I’ll shoot you till you can’t breathe.”

The threat was strong and forceful, joined by the steady beating of his butterfly heart. Iron Man must’ve known that the kid wasn’t joking by the way that he started giving off less of a hostile vibe and more of a comforting one in Peter’s direction.

Matt tensed as footsteps passed by the door. 

A young scientist, probably mid twenties by their stature. Less body weight due to lack of exercise, yet abnormally long lungs. Probably something that needed to be checked out. A genetic variation brought from their parents? 

Either way, it didn’t matter. 

All the scientist was able to do in the split second of seeing the three heroes and one person with a glued-down hand was register  _ ‘oh fuck, we’re caught.’ _

“Hey, you’re--!” 

Matt flung his club with an accuracy that could’ve only been developed with years of practice, the stick cutting through the air at breakneck speeds and knocking the panicking scientist in the temple. The next second, he was crumbling to the floor. The second after, Daredevil was across the room and dragging him inside, keeping the hallways clear.

“Shit,” Iron Man hissed. “Anyone hear?”

Peter was the one to answer as Matt retrieved his weapon. “No, but we still don’t have much time. Let’s get him and get out.”

Spiderman and Iron Man both moved as a unit, taking one collective step forward. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you!” Leonard called out in a sing-song voice, causing all of them to pause in their movements. “After all, who’s to say that the cure isn’t here, in this room? Removing me wouldn’t do anything except prolong the effects of the gas.”

Spiderman tilted his head, consulting his AI. Daredevil grit his teeth as he heard the reply, hearing the unsurety in her robotic voice. Iron Man cursed, apparently reaching the same predicament. Leonard’s heartbeat remained steady, the statement ringing true.

“Alright,” Daredevil finally spoke. He was glad that he kept silent from the way Leonard startled at his vocals, heart thumping faster and adrenaline filling his systems. “Here’s what you’re going to do.”

Matt moved slowly, taking one step at a time. A lean in his gait that screamed sudden demise. Behind him, the track record of comas and hospitalization burned under his steps. Shoulders squared, chest out with pride. Fists clenched around a billy club each, one dripping blood from their earlier contact with the scientist. A snarl on his lips, patience finally at its end. 

Every agonizing step seemed to finally put Leonard in his place, realizing how severely screwed he was. His eyes were widening and his heart raced like it was trying to escape from its confines. Sweat poured from under his arms, drenching the shirt under his coat. Iron Man and Spiderman stepped to the sides as he came from the shadows, creating a triangle as he passed them.

Leonard decided to play God.

Now he had the devil after him.

“You’re going to stop wasting time,” Daredevil growled out, voice dark and menacing, “and give us the antidote.” He was less than five feet away now, the smell of fear dripping off of his prey like it was cologne in a boys locker room.

“Then you’re going to turn yourself into the police. Accept your sentence. And if not,” he paused for an emotional build, leaning forward so that his mask was directly in front of Leonard's face. His breath was hot and fast and disgusting, yet Matt endured it to let his next whisper have its full effect. “I’ll come after you. And there’s no escaping the devil when you’re doomed to Hell.”

Iron Man shifted behind him, the sound of the nanoparticles vibrating at a nearly imperceptible frequency giving away the movement more than the air current could. Then, Spiderman taking another step forward. Enforcing the threat, making it that much scarier.

“You’ve messed with the wrong crowd, Leonard,” Tony said, gauntlets finally lowering. Matt felt the horns on his helmet move to the side minutely, the only thing giving off the fact that he turned ever so slightly towards the other man. Apparently, he and his AI had decided that the threat was neutralized and the blasters were unnecessary. 

“No, no no!” The man filled with fear cried out, thrashing around and trying to escape his predicament. Matt took a step back to avoid a flailing limb aimed at his chest plate. “This isn’t supposed to happen like this! I won’t go down this easily!” 

A scoff behind him to his right. Peter. Was this line of yelling familiar to the teen? Had he heard the same thing at a different point in time? 

Someone turned down the hallway. Paused, and then dug in their pocket for a small box. Pressed a button, and then fled.

Matt didn’t have time to dwell over what that may have entailed. Instead, he was caught off guard by the sudden shrill of alarm ringing throughout the entire building, dancing and bouncing on every wall and entering his ears with such ferocity that it sent him tumbling. 

“Daredevil!” Iron Man called out, finally running forward and crouching down next to the fallen man. Matt had his hands clamped over his ears, an involuntary roar escaping his throat as his mind spun in circles, tortured by the onslaught of loud noises. 

The sudden loud and obnoxious sound was enough to mess with his radar sense for a few precious seconds, throwing his world off of its axis. A touch to his side, a cold hand with constant microscopic movements. Matt flinched and grabbed the limb, ready to break the bones. 

Someone behind him rushing towards the door, fighting. A crowd of thundering footsteps that sounded too far yet too close, battling for dominance over his attention. Another person in front of him, cackling. Sending vibrations through the floor that he felt through his knees and toes. Then, the owner of the voice running.

Running.

Matt gasped like he had been suffocating, throwing all of his willpower into wrangling his senses and forcing them to focus on his immediate surroundings.

Tony, next to him. Yelling at him about something, voice sounding distorted behind metal. Peter throwing punches as scientists came in with high tech weapons, mixing together with giant goons that towered over the teen. The smell that Matt came to associate with Spiderman’s webs on the table in front of him, wrapped up around each other.

The scent of Leonard only a memory throughout the chaotic floor.

“--vil, are you there? Daredevil!”

Finally, the wonderful voice of Tony cut through. He sounded loud and clear, no metal there to obscure his vocals. The helmet of his armor gone? Matt let go of his hand as soon as he realized how hard he was squeezing it, using the strength to instead help himself up. “I’m fine, I’m fine. Don’t worry. Go help Spiderman.”

It wasn’t necessarily a lie, but by the way his heart skipped, it wasn’t necessarily the truth either. He  _ would  _ be fine, but only in a few moments time. Yet he knew that would only distract Tony from the hoard storming through the room, so he decided to go for the softer answer.

He stood as strong as he could, really trying to sell his point. When Tony got up from the ground, his head moved up and down like he was giving Matt a once over. Apparently satisfied with whatever he was looking for, he nodded. 

They both jumped straight into the fray, aiding Spiderman as he battled his way out of the room and into the hallway. “Leonard escaped!” The teen yelled out, dodging a clumsy punch. The female scientist he was fighting grabbed something in her pocket and threw it in his face, a burst of pink and grey smoke erupting as soon as it made contact with his mask. “ _ Son of a--”  _ he whispered more to himself than anything, closing his eyes as he crouched and swung his leg out, sending her and two others tumbling onto the ground. A second later saw them encased in a web cocoon ranging from their feet to their shoulders.

“Which way did he go?” Tony responded, going head to head with the tallest motherfucker there. He curled his armored hand into a fist and punched the man in the side, following it up with a left hook that packed more heat than anything Matt could’ve thought possible. The man was sent flying up, spinning in mid air, before falling back on another guy. Someone snuck up behind the armor and jumped onto it, stabbing the front with a syringe that really looked more like a knife. Yet the nanoparticles held true and didn’t let the foreign object enter, only breaking the needle.

The twisting movement that Tony had to do to wiggle the guy off of him was enough to give a pause in his battle focused mind, ultimately causing him to be overrun with criminals who were diversely skilled in both brute strength and staggering intelligence.

Matt had already made it to the hallway, using the small space to his advantage. He bounced off the walls and flip kicked two goons at once, landing and delivering a sharp upper cut into the third. Someone tried to sneak up on him like they had Iron Man, but he simply bounced his billy club off of the floor and reveled in the way it ricocheted around him to perfectly slam into its target. “I don’t know, but I won’t stop until I find him.”

He received two grunts in reply, the sirens blasting louder and painting every movement out for Matt to see.

After that, the feeling of being in battle washed over him and a sense of euphoria came with it. With the small space available, it gave Matt the advantage of being able to perform more of his ninja-like movements. He could ricochet his weapons off of the walls and take out three or four at a time. Conversely, he could hop and bounce off of them, just like they were fire escapes in the alleys he climbed nearly every night.

The three of them fell together into a rhythm almost as easily as breathing, which was shocking more than anything. Sure, they had that  _ one  _ team up that he couldn’t even remember, and a lot of side team ups with one other member, but never as a whole group.

Usually, it was split from Spiderman. He either was out with Daredevil or Iron Man. Never both. Yet now? It was like they had been doing this for centuries. Spiderman would web a guy up and fling him in the air, Daredevil would perform a spinning kick maneuver sending him Iron Man’s way, who would then blast him into the room where the ever growing pile of webbed, unconscious goons were.

Working with two other people was kind of new for him.Yet he wouldn’t complain, not when it alleviated some of the possible injuries he could’ve acquired without the presence of one super powered tank of armor and another sticky-fingered arachnid. 

The amount of evil scientists and goons pouring through the hallways had slowed down to a trickle of three or four at a time, telling him that they had finally run out of targets. The team was making quick work of them, taking care of the ones with irregular weapons first. So far, Matt could say he had only gotten pelted once with a sticky substance that threatened to corrode the exterior of his suit. Luckily he realized the dangerous property of the material a mere second before it made contact, meaning he was able to slam himself into the wall and rub it off of his armor. 

“Duck!” Peter yelled, jumping up onto the ceiling to avoid a beam of light that felt like a fire on Matt’s skin. Instinctively he fell to the ground, gritting his teeth when he realized it was a laser from one of the weaker opponents. Tony went to shoot the gun away from its owner, but ended up getting manhandled by a man on the heftier side, getting picked up and flung through the air, only to slam into Matt, who had only just gotten up. The force of the impact had him crumbling under the sudden weight.

They both fell onto the ground in a heap, scrambling to get up fast enough so that they wouldn’t get outnumbered. Now back to back, Iron Man took to lowering the blasts on his gauntlets to a less lethal power, instead shooting just enough to knock them unconscious. Daredevil protected from behind, punching and spinning and kicking with everything he had. 

Spiderman joined in the huddle, taking both of their sides. Together, they all made quick work of the rest of the people in the hallways. Tony and Matt would knock them down and Spiderman would web them up, creating a rather terrifying scene for anyone who were to walk in on the aftermath.

It took only a few minutes, but those few minutes were precious when it came to their escaping target. Matt swiveled his head around the room, listening to the slow pace of heartbeats all around him. Everyone was down, and was going to remain that way for quite a while. Throughout the building, there was only one other person who showed signs of wakefulness. Thankfully, it was just who they needed. 

Not so thankfully, the erratic heartbeat was also in the room that smelled of chemicals three floors above; if Matt had to guess, his new and improved mixtures.

Tony and Peter must’ve realized at the same time as he did, as they both cursed and looked at each other in panic. “Come on,” Matt told them, turning and bolting down the hallways. The sound of repulsors powering up and the thwipping of web followed closely behind, both beings in a race against who could get there faster.

The room came faster than what Matt anticipated, adrenaline fueling his veins and giving him a rush that caused him to lead the trio despite the advantage the other two had on him. He didn’t even remember lunging up the stairs, everything blurring together in a flurry of  _ I need to get to Leonard, I need to do this, I need to… _

What Matt needed to do was focus. He was sure that the other two had similar thought patterns, yet they still kept things under control. Or as under control as Matt cared to sense.

They burst through the door once more, Daredevil being followed by Spiderman as Iron Man took the rear. “No, stop!” Peter yelled out, right as Leonard mixed together two liquids. Matt stood stock still, everything in his body refusing to move even a fraction of a millimeter. The man smiled and the putrid smell of his lunch was once more filling his senses, but he didn’t care.

The thing that had Matt frozen in place, unable to even think-- let alone  _ breathe _ \-- was the smell of gas emitting from the mixed concoction in the hands of a man capable of taking memories away. A mix that didn’t have a cure yet.

Iron Man kept his hands at his sides, gauntlets faced down. If he shot, then it would all be for nothing. There was too much of a risk, too many factors at play. Spiderman had his arms stretched out like he was going to make a grab for the potion, but he too had his feet planted firmly on the ground. 

The teen was in a heavier state of fight-or-flight than the two, chest heaving with anxiety more than exertion. He smelled of cortisol and norepinephrine, the chemicals overflowing through his veins and chasing away any natural smell. The AI in his mask remained silent, and Matt had to assume that Peter had turned her off. All the other times that they had been together, she reported to him when his vitals were fluctuating too much. 

It didn’t really take a genius to know that was the case here.

They were once again stuck in a stalemate, all three heroes on one side of the room while the low-grade villain was on the other. Too many variables, too many possibilities for tragedy. Too great of a possibility of failure. 

Matt swallowed and tried to open his throat so that he wouldn’t pass out.

“Leonard,” Tony said in a calm voice. “I know that you’re hurting. You just want to get back to your loved ones, right? Have the life you had before.” His heartbeat sounded like a gun in Matt’s ear, loud and thundering. Fear gripped at his bones and shook his devil into submission, yet there was no signs of the emotion in his voice. Only sincerity and the subtle hints of a plea.

“I can get you that, but only with your help.” Tony risked a step forward, slow and tentative. Placid. He was now next to Peter, who had lowered his arms so that his hands were clenched into tight fists at his sides. Leonard bristled and slugged his arm backwards ready to throw the chemicals. Matt stepped in front of the others, sending a growl in warning.

“No! I’m not going to fall for your pity party! You- you don’t actually care!” Leonard shook his head, the small amount of hair he had swishing through the air. The smell of salty tears permeated the space, coming from the man. “You can’t help me!”

Tony breathed out to calm himself down before taking another step. This one slower, so that he was in eyesight once more. “I can look at your work and compare it to my own research. We can help your wife and your kids. But in order to do that…” Tony paused, making sure the man was listening. “I can’t have you taking away my memories. Or anyone, for that matter. It won’t help your case, and it won’t help your family.” 

Matt knew that bargaining was a safe way to go. And truly, he applauded Tony for the effort. But they were all well versed in what happens when you commit an act on this level. Leonard may be there to see his family regain what they had lost, (if that was even a possibility) yet he would be witnessing it from behind behind bars. 

The only future the man had would be in a prison cell on some remote island, where people of his intellectual capacity were contained. A way to neutralize a threat, even if it were only a possibility. Because what Leonard had alluded to earlier with his ‘bigger plans’ had to have some sort of connection to wiping out more than just two people’s memories. More like entire countries, full populations forgetting whatever Leonard wanted them to forget. 

Someone with that ability would be considered a national threat, one that needed to be apprehended. Especially if he had already taken action, which he had when he first captured the three heroes all that time ago.

Yet Leonard hesitated in his movements, indecision raining from his pores and filling the room. His breaths were harsh and created air currents with each sharp exhale, lightly tapping against Matt’s armor. 

Even with all of his brains, he was still swayed by the possibility of his family returning. 

_ How bittersweet,  _ Matt thought.  _ That even when he has the knowledge to lead the world, he still seeks out  _ his  _ world.  _

“Yeah, yeah man,” Peter breathed out, catching onto what Tony was trying to do. His heartbeat slowed down slightly, no longer sounding like it was trying to break through and run away. “I can help too. We can get them the help they need, alright? I won’t stop until they’re okay.”

The concoction in the vial still emitted gas, yet at a slower pace. His arm slowly lowered, and it felt like Matt could finally move again. 

“You… you’d help me?” 

Leonard sounded completely broken, a man who had lost all hope and was ready to give up. The lawyer part of Matt thrashed around and yelled inside of him, saying that the man needed a different type of help than what they were offering. The darker part of him whispered that he would get what he deserved.

Daredevil silenced the two in his mind, choosing to go with what his heart had decided. “We will, but only if you help us first.”

The air in the room grew almost lighter. Every breath felt more natural, and things felt less like they were being weighed down by a fog that kept the tension so unbearable. The three heroes were still on edge, ready to attack and defend, yet Leonard stood in front of them, slowly falling apart. 

It wasn’t until the man fell to his knees and allowed the sobs to wrack through his body did anyone else move.

  
Spiderman took a tentative step forward, and then another. He passed Tony first and then Matt, neither of them doing anything to keep him at bay. When he got their unspoken permission, he took the last few steps and crouched down next to Leonard.

The man had one hand covering his face, the other wrapped tightly around the flask holding the chemicals. When he spoke, it was as quiet as a prayer and as remorseful as a broken oath. “Oh God… what have I done… what have I done?” 

Slowly, ever so slowly, Peter moved to put a comforting hand on Leonard’s back. When the man didn’t react violently to the touch, the teen then rubbed the small space up and down gently. 

Tony turned to look at him, but Matt had his face angled away to give the impression of privacy. The moment felt too personal, too deep. Something that Matt couldn’t relate to and would probably never have to. Because to him, he never had someone close to him forget who he was. Never had to deal with the confusion and the loss after a horrible event like that.

But Peter and Leonard had. And although they both either, intentionally or unintentionally, caused it, the aftermath was still the same: someone close had forgotten, and had suffered because of it. 

Everything about the situation felt wrong still. The build up, the climax, and now the resolution. The three of them had prepared for a fight that would’ve lasted more than a few minutes, more than just the large goons and technologically advanced scientists still knocked out in the hallway downstairs. They’d been ready to jump in kicking and screaming, ready to take down a villain who had wronged all of them.

Yet… It felt mundane, how it really turned out. The end result wasn’t as battle worthy as anticipated, wasn’t a movie-worthy fight. The villain was only fueled by grief, crumbling and turning into a common man when offered the possibility of regaining what he had lost. It didn’t end with a roar like anticipated, but rather a whimper.

Spiderman took the flask from Leonard’s lax hand, extending it out towards Iron Man. 

Matt was thankful that it wasn’t for him, because he was sure that he’d get knocked on his ass if the smell had come in such close proximity to him. Tony took the concoction, deploying something from his suit to cover the top. It was only after that was done did Matt realize how much the smell had been taking up space in the room.

Leonard continued to repeat the names of his family in between each sob, tears streaming down his face and tasting like salt on Matt’s tongue. “Anna, Bryce, Destiny…” His heart beat heavy with sadness, chemicals in his body radiating sorrow and despair. 

Daredevil clenched his fists and put his billy clubs away, deciding to expedite things. “Leonard,” he started, lips turning into a thin line when the man flinched at the sound of his voice. The devil took a knee from where he stood, propping one elbow on the raised portion of his leg. “We can help you tonight. Get your family the help they need. But in order to do that, you have to give us the chemicals and the equations you used.”

A sniffle, the sound of snot going back where it came from disgusting Matt more than it had any right to. He stayed still, waiting for confirmation from Leonard that sudden movements wouldn’t be a bad thing. It only took a few moments before he was nodding his head, the motion feeling like a reprieve to Matt’s busted knee. 

They all knew that Leonard’s family would be alright, in the end. Tony wasn’t one to lie about offering help. If his genius levels weren’t enough to help the family, then his access to technology and ties in the medical community sure would do the trick. 

But even with their memories back, the kids would still have to grow up without a father. A wife growing old without her husband. 

The future was filled with certain darkness for them, yet Matt tried not to dwell on that.

“ _ Boss,”  _ the AI in Tony’s helmet spoke softly. FRIDAY? The name felt oddly familiar, like Peter and Tony had mentioned it in passing. “ _ I’ve analyzed the components of the first gas and this chemical mixture, and I believe that I’ve found a cure.” _

Tony swallowed, but showed no outward signs of acknowledgement. If Matt hadn’t heard the tinny voice of the AI, then he would’ve never known. He couldn’t help his own outward reaction of tilting his head and turning to face Tony.

Peter tore his eyes away from the grieving man, facing the other two before nodding. FRIDAY must’ve relayed the information to him, as well. 

Leonard was gasping for air, trying to orient himself back into a position of relative normalcy. The tears had only just stopped raining down his face, eyes still clouded with wetness that threatened to fall with only a blink. His heart beat loudly yet not overly so, thunder in an empty arena. Muscles in his arms, back, and legs strained against each other. 

“G-go into the farthest room on the left. There’s-- there’s all the things you’d need for a cure in there.” His heart had skipped, yet not out of dishonesty. Matt pursed his lips in curiosity, deciding not to trust the man. Not until he was sure that nothing was wrong.

Yet Tony had turned and started walking away, only hesitating at the door and turning around to wait on Matt. “Are you good with staying with him?” He asked Peter, nodding towards Leonard. The teen looked between all the occupants in the room, before emitting the feeling of steely resolve.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. Come back soon.”

Matt closed his eyes and cast his senses outwards, sniffing and locating the room that Leonard had guided them to. It only took a few seconds, yet the smell of chemicals wafted through loud and clear. Writing on the walls, scribbles on paper. Graphite that looped and swirled in patterns of english that Matt couldn’t pinpoint without touching. A button for something? 

Tony asked if he was coming, and Matt opened his eyes. 

He sent one more ‘look’ towards Leonard, before turning around and following Tony. They walked quickly, the closed door at the end burning with answers. 

Once they were in front of it, Tony took Matt’s hand and squeezed. Turned to face him, helmet disintegrating back down. “Do you trust this?” He asked. Matt didn’t need clarification for what ‘this’ was, instead turning towards Tony and pursing his lips.

“If I did, then I would be a fool.” 

That at least sparked a smile from the engineer, a huff of laughter accompanying. “This feels too easy,” he admitted in the silence, confirming Matt’s previous thoughts. The cure was on the other side of the door, the thing that they had wanted to track down for weeks. Found in under three hours. 

“That’s what I was thinking earlier. Yet nothing seems off in the room, besides maybe the writing on the wall. There isn’t much, though.” He paused, and then added, “I can smell chemicals, too. It’s in there, he wasn’t lying.”

Tony sighed at the information, tilting his head downwards for a few seconds before picking it back up. “Are you ready?” 

Matt breathed out and considered. 

Yeah, he was ready to get his memories back. Associate all of his previous notions of Tony with his current ones, gain back what was lost to him before. Ready to take back control of one aspect of his life. Get back that small level of stability.

Yet the thought of him not liking Tony before everything gave him pause. What if they were actually enemies? Or reluctant acquaintances at best? Only brought together by their love of Peter, never facing each other unless strictly necessary.

… He felt like Peter would have told them about that if it were the case. 

To him, there were more things leaning towards yes. And he found that the small mental debate was enough of a reprieve to calm down his racing mind, leveling everything out in his body.

Matt smiled and leaned in to kiss Tony, unbothered by the devil mask that covered half of his own face. Tony kissed back, his heart jumping just as it always did when Matt unexpectedly showed affection like that. “Yeah, I am.”

They took their hands back to their sides, Tony getting his nanoparticles to shield his face once more just in case. Then, he extended his hand and jiggled the knob of the door, taking a breath in before opening it.

The aroma of chemicals hit Matt at full force now without anything blocking the way, causing him to ruffle up his nose and sneeze. Tony showed no reaction besides a mumbled ‘bless you’, taking in the sight of the room.

Something felt wrong. Incredibly wrong. Yet they still ventured further through the doorway, taking everything in.

From the potency of the smell, the chemicals were on the hoard of lab tables in the front of the room. On the sides, empty beakers and sinks. Huge tables in the middle of the space, enough chairs around them to leave room for at least thirty scientists to flutter around doing business at once. 

Papers littered every desk, varying in use of graphite and ink. Some only had one type of writing, others had both. Notes that reeked of highlighters, others that had only been printed out. Matt thinned his lips and hoped that Tony would find the right papers, because a part of him assumed that the mixtures in the front weren’t what they were looking for.

“Daredevil? Are you sensing anything that I can’t?” Iron Man asked him from across the room, directly in front of a wall that had a bunch of different papers posted. Probably important notices. 

“Aside from the putrid smell of chemicals? Not really.” He sighed and closed his eyes, focusing on the room once more. Something still didn’t feel right, like there was something blatantly obvious and in front of their faces, yet they were none the wiser of its presence. 

Tony put the vial down on a nearby desk, using both of his hands to rummage through the desk drawers for something that may have been put away. That, or a hidden compartment.

Matt took a step forward off of the vibrating floor, doing a sweep of every surface. Nothing seemed broken except for the lingering smell of old glass vials that had long been swept up and liquids mopped up off of the floor, leaving every surface in a state of relative clean despite the clutter. The walls were all coated in the same technology as the flooring, everything humming at the same rhythm and pitch, sounding like the worst symphony imaginable. Even the door--

Wait.

It took him less than two seconds to realize that the mechanical coatings around the room were contained to  _ only  _ the room. Yet those seconds were just enough time for whatever sensors that were implemented in the space to go off, shutting everything off and making the room show up in vibrations that continuously lit up Matt’s world.

The room fell into a state of lock down, door quickly working on its own to slam closed. “No!” Daredevil screamed out, unsheathing one of his billy clubs and flinging it full force to try to lodge it. But alas, the club slammed against the door milliseconds too late, clattering onto the ground in a tune that sounded like defeat in Matt’s ears.

Iron Man swiveled around in alarm, running towards the door to try to break it down. “ _ Fuck,”  _ he hissed out, charging up a blast and hitting the space. Matt listened and felt icy cold fear settle into his bones and cause a snowball to drop in his chest when he realized that the sound was absorbed with the metal encasing around them.

The two shared a look towards each other, before breaking into quick and rapid movements. Shuffling papers around, knocking down desks. Trying to find something that would get them out. Panic filled their veins and painted them both in bright lights.

Then, it happened.

  
Ever so quietly. Something that Matt had only picked up on because his senses were working in overdrive to find a clue on how to get them out of this mess. A small hissing sound that Tony hadn’t even acknowledged.

There was gas pouring in the room, and Matt was the only one to notice.

“Tony,  _ Tony, holy fuck, Tony,”  _ Matt ran up to the man and tried to get his attention, only working after he cursed and punched his arm. Tony whipped his head up in alarm, eyes wide and mouth slightly agape. “There’s gas leaking through the room. Over there,” he pointed at once space, “And there, there, and there.” Matt paused so that Tony could take in the severity of their situation, and then realized something. “The holes are expanding. More gas is pouring in every second. We’re... we’re not going to be able to get out.” 

They stopped for a few seconds, failure heavy on their shoulders. They had been tricked. Conned. Screwed over in the last possible second. All of the tears that Leonard had poured were fake, his moment of empathy was just an excuse to get them to bargain with him. He wanted them here, wanted them to be trapped like rats in a maze once more.    
  
And they had fallen for it.

  
They knew, they  _ knew  _ something was wrong. Yet they still walked in the room anyways, still looked around. They even left Peter with the man, thinking that he would be able to watch him. 

God, they were colossal fuck-ups. And they were about to pay the price.

The chemicals were stronger now, diminishing Matt’s radar sense. He couldn’t feel the entire room anymore, world spinning and fuzzing out. Instead, all he could focus on was Tony. Tony, who had staggered his way over, running into a desk and nearly face planting.

Matt went to move his leg and distantly wondered if it felt heavy because someone was holding him back. 

Vaguely, he remembered the button in his pocket that was handed in case of emergencies. His fingers felt numb and detached from his body, however, so there was no hope in him being able to grab it and activate it. Instead, he curled his hand into a practiced fist and punched his pocket weakly, hoping that did the trick.

“Matt-- no, please, don’t--” Tony choked out, finally closing the space. Desperately he grabbed onto Matt’s shoulders like his life depended on it, grip hard and unwavering. Yet there was too much in the air, too much in his lungs and nose.

“No!” Tony yelled, sounding distant and fragile.

Matt felt the ground slam into him, and his world went white.

  
  


_____

  
  


Peter wondered what was taking the other two so long. 

By then, Leonard had calmed down enough to stagger onto his feet. He still stuck close, yet seemed to be wanting to edge closer to the desk that held a bunch of papers. 

They didn’t try any conversations, and honestly? That was preferred.

Instead, all Peter could think about was the different equations of chemicals that could be combined and mixed together. Ones that may help out his family, if their minds hadn’t naturally repaired themselves after the trauma. 

His spidey sense hummed a quiet tune at the back of his neck, sending shivers up and down his spine. Yet it had been that way ever since he crashed down from the vents earlier, so he supposed it would be a regular up until they left.

One arm was wrapped around his middle and the other was propped up on top of it, holding his chin. Leonard was in his peripheral, sniffling and looking around for something.

  
“I wonder what they’re doing…” Peter broke the silence, thinking out loud. He received a half hearted snort, the sound of Leonard’s heartbeat increasing with adrenaline making the teen furrow his eyebrows.

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that…”

The ominous answer was enough to break him out of his thoughts, turning around to question what it meant. Yet as his arms moved to his side, his mask beeped in alert.

More precisely, the alert that Daredevil pressed his button, meaning he needed help.

It hit Peter at once, feeling like icy shards stabbing through every pore on his body. His eyes widened and he stood stock still, staring at the evil smile on Leonard’s face. 

Then he heard it. The hissing of gas, the muted cries. Scrambling, someone falling. All behind a sealed room.

Spiderman was running out of the room before he even had time to process what he was doing.

In record time he made it to the door, slamming into it with all of his force. Yet it remained locked, not a single dent seen. 

  
Fear dug its way through his veins, settling down and resting. Leonard was cackling down the hallway, and all Peter could think about was how much of a failure he was for falling for his antics.

“Tony?! Matt! Can you guys hear me?!” He screamed, banging on the walls around the door and hoping that  _ something  _ would fall apart. Yet everything remained intact, not including the skin on his knuckles.

Of course, he got no reply. For how long it took him to realize that they were in danger, the gas would’ve already hit their systems and taken them down for the count. 

Suddenly he was being bombarded with thoughts and feelings and memories of the first time this had happened. Yet the only difference was that he was the one who was free to roam, free to do whatever, while Matt and Tony were the ones who were isolated in what could arguably be a cell. 

“No, no no no, no!” He cried out, tears welling up in his eyes as he listened to the lethargic heartbeats intermingling together. The feeling of uselessness washed over him like snow in a blizzard, and all he could do was hit the walls with all of his might, hoping to hit a weak spot. 

His fists were bloody and his knuckles were torn to hell, but it didn’t matter. The pain didn’t compare to what he felt internally, heart thudding rapidly and slamming into his sternum. “Karen, please! Help me!” 

The AI remained silent. Peter continued to beat himself physically and emotionally.

Behind him, quiet footsteps. Yet he didn’t hear, too preoccupied listening to the sounds inside.

Behind him, a raised hand filled with a blunt object. Yet Peter didn’t see, head swiveling every which way in front of him.

Behind him, a sharp impact straight to the base of his neck. Yet he didn’t feel, spidey sense mixing with consternation.

Peter didn’t realize that he hit the ground until it jarred every bone in his body, shocking his systems into clarity. Yet it was too late, the damage was done.

  
He gasped, and faded into nothing. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> did you catch the 2003 Daredevil reference 
> 
> ;)
> 
> Once more, thank you to Magniloquentchanteuse, SanaTomb, and RexAraneo for going over my chapter! The help was incredibly appreciated and well needed <3 Search them up on ao3 and read their stories!
> 
> Also, let me know in the comments what you guys thought! 
> 
> Until next time!


	4. Gotta Get Back (I Can't Let This Go)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "We did it.
> 
> We won."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! We finished!
> 
> (Finally!)
> 
> I'll keep the notes short in the beginning and save everything for the end :) 
> 
> Thank you to Jani_Tomb and Magniloquentchanteuse for going over this chapter and encouraging me when the heftiest wave of writers block kept me stumped for most of the time!

Peter woke up with the sun shining on his face and what he assumed was the worst headache he’s had since the spider bite.

And really, that should have clued him in that something was wrong. Those two things decidedly didn’t mix. Usually when they did, it meant that he had fallen during a battle and blacked out for a few seconds. Or minutes. 

Yet… he couldn’t remember anything drastic happening? In fact, remembering things was a little hard. It was like they were  _ right there,  _ close enough that his fingers could graze over them, but he could never grab them. They hid in the wrinkles of his mind, staying away from anything that could draw them into the light.

A pitiful groan escaped his lips. His eyes remained closed, fingers curling into weak fists at his sides as his body threatened to curl in on itself.

But the sun. The sun, casting its rays down on his body and coloring him in bright hues, felt  _ so  _ good. Like he was at the beach running around with the too-hot rays bouncing off of the sand and heating up the bottom of his feet. 

It felt relaxing. Calming. It dragged Peter in, convincing him that everything was alright. 

In the arms of the sun’s rays, Peter fell back into the abyss.

  
  


_____

  
  


The next time he woke up, he was much more cognizant of his situation.

He started with a gasp, this awakening much less soft. In the sky, dark grey clouds loomed overhead. They threatened to fall into a rain that would eventually take to the streets of New York, blinding every person for a few short feet. 

Peter jackknifed from his sprawled out position on the ground, immediately wincing and bringing his hands up to shield his eyes and hold the back of his head. And really, if his body weren’t already as stiff as it could’ve been, it certainly would’ve reached those levels after he pulled his hand away to reveal dry, crusted red blood. 

In those moments, he needed his brain to stop playing games and help him remember the past day. Yet nothing came up front, his mind giving him the metaphorical finger.

It took him an embarrassingly long time for him to realize he was in his Spider suit, which meant that whatever clocked him clocked him  _ good.  _ Good enough for the blood to seep through his patented suit, made especially so that things like this wouldn’t happen.

Peter looked around to gather his surroundings and was a little more confused when he realized his environment wasn’t going to help him pick anything up. Why?

Because he was on top of a building and he couldn’t even remember climbing it. 

“What the…” he spoke aloud, pulling a face and running his tongue around his mouth a few times to dispel some of the grossness. And truly, that thought wasn’t a good one. He had to have been away from his home for longer than a day or so for his mouth to start tasting like that.

But… where was his home?

Of course, he knew  _ where  _ it was. Which was with Matt in Hell’s Kitchen, surrounded by Karen and Foggy. And it was also with Tony upstate, working with Dum-E and U to build whatever new project was at hand. 

But Peter had no idea where he was. Didn’t even know if he was still in New York. The sounds of waves crashing on a beach felt like confusion as the emotion washed over him, blanketing his senses and having them hyperfocus on the calming sound rather than the way his heart beat rapidly in his chest.

Looking around and actually focusing on the environment to try to gain some of his bearings felt only like an afterthought, put on the back burner in light of his questioning position. The fact that he hadn’t done so surely would’ve given Matt an aneurysm if the man was here.

Only with that thought did the sound of another slow heartbeat prickle at the back of his mind, thumping quietly and getting covered by the  _ woosh  _ of water. Startled, Peter turned around and held out an arm, fingers almost pressing the trigger to his web shooters.

But instead of facing a villain that he may have taken down when he went out, he was facing Daredevil and Iron Man.

Which.

Was not ideal? But definitely way better than most possibilities that clouded Peter’s mind for the moment. 

“Matt! Tony!” Peter shouted, jumping up and steadfastly ignoring the way his vision spun as he stumbled with a sickening lurch. The two were laying down next to each other, the helmet of Tony’s suit resting on Matt’s calf. Both had their arms straight against their body, almost like they had been dragged there.

_ What the hell happened?  _ Peter found himself wondering as he sprinted across the way. Distantly, he noticed that he wasn’t familiar with the roof. Which was a little odd, especially considering the time he’d spent wandering on the roofs of New York. He tended to remember kind of weird building tops.

The waves in the distance continued to crash against the shore, and the sun was nowhere to be found. 

Peter sniffed when his knees hit the ground in front of the two heroes and the smell of blood reached his nose as delicately as a petal floating in the wind. 

His blood?

(A part of him really hoped it was only his.)

Matt and Tony still had yet to move, the former’s lips slightly parted as air slowly went in between his teeth. Tony’s face was still covered, and Peter realized with a jerk that he had no way to know if he was breathing.

Panic seizing his frame, his hand reached out quickly to double tap on his arc reactor. The baby blue light changed to a violent red, blinking three times before going back to its calm hues. Peter froze, silently asking himself  _ what the fuck?  _ before tapping it again, for some odd reason expecting a different result.

Which is, of course, what he didn’t get. 

“FRI?” He tried, heart doing double time. “Can you hear me?”

Only a few seconds later did she respond. “Hello, Peter.” A pause, then, “I can’t seem to connect to Karen. Is everything alright?”

The nonchalance in her voice sent an incredulous laugh out of Peter’s body, shoulders shaking and despite how he felt, a smile. He looked to the sky, at the grey clouds, and wondered if she was just talking about him right now or in general.

“No, FRI. Everything isn’t alright. Why can’t I get Tony out of the suit?” He ghosted over her words, anger threatening to sneak in through his tone. Yet he refused to let it take control, to let his harsh words color and harm the AI. 

For a few long seconds, all that he could hear were the harsh breaths that overtook his being, the beating of his heart, and the waves in the distance. The sky remained a dull grey, clouds moving sluggishly. His hair was crusty from the blood at the back of his neck. How long had he been in the suit?

He breathed out, taking Matt’s hand without looking. Squeezed it, and remained unsure if he did so more to comfort himself or to trick himself into thinking the man would squeeze back.

“Boss made the new arc reactor to be wired biologically to his touch. Although, according to his schedule, he was supposed to ask you and Matthew Murdock for permission to input your fingerprints.” She finally spoke, breaking through the quiet space.

Once more, misplaced anger flooded through his veins. This time, directed at the unconscious man. “Oh, really?!” he retorted, a snarl on his lips. “Well, when has Tony ever been known to follow through, huh? Keep a schedule-- keep me in the loop?”

Instantly, embarrassment washed over him. He struck an incredibly low blow, one that wasn’t even remotely true. He knew Tony tried. And of course, he knew why everything that Tony was working on had to be pushed to the side for a bit in the past few weeks. 

FRIDAY remained silent, and he didn’t know why that stung so much. “I’m sorry,” he said to no one, to everyone. To himself, to the world. To the AI, to Tony, to Matt. “God, I’m so sorry.”

He scrubbed his face, squishing his nose against the palm of his hand. The burn was grounding. Like he could stop at any point since it  _ was  _ his choice to cause the miniscule amount of pain, but refused to.

Then a thought hit him, and he wanted to groan at his slow mind.

_ Get over yourself,  _ Peter chided.  _ There’s more important things to be doing.  _

He finally lowered his chin so that his eyes were facing the duo in front of him, hand still resting in Matt’s palm. Gently, so gently, he removed it and instead grabbed Tony’s arm, guiding his fingers to the top of his arc reactor. 

Two taps later, and the nanoparticles were dissolving back into their housing unit. 

Peter let out a sigh of relief and felt as some tension leave his body at the sight of the billionaire. Passed out, sure, but  _ breathing.  _

“Okay,” he said to himself. Peter took a glance around and found that there were no buildings around for him to swing on. “Okay, cool. Cool beans. We’ll… I’ll just do something, I don’t know.”

The words made no sense as they left his mouth, but that didn’t matter. He wasn’t thinking about them, just letting his tongue loose as his brain tried to slug up a solution to this predicament. 

A rumble of thunder. An oncoming storm.

The waves continued to sound throughout the area, and a small, overwhelmed part of Peter wanted to shout. 

He tried standing up again and found that the world was significantly less spinny than before.  _ Good, _ he thought.  _ I can work with this. _

But what exactly was there to work with? So far all he had were three superheroes in suits, two unconscious with no signs of waking up and the other a panicked, bumbling mess with a possible concussion. No buildings to climb and swing from, no way for him to transport the others. In fact, the only hope they had was the one with the flying suit to wake up and--

Peter’s body pressed the pause button, every single movement causing him to freeze in place. Then, slowly, like a villain in a movie, he turned his head to face Tony.

More specifically, his detachable arc reactor.

The thought was ludicrous at most. Him? Flying in a suit of armor? A dry chuckle left his lips, weight suddenly pushing down on his chest and shoulders as he leaned against the lip of the building. Tony and him weren’t even the same measurements. He’d be stuck in a closed and confined space, some parts of the armor hugging too much and others not enough.

Peter brought a hand to slap on his forehead, tilting his head up once more as his chest jumped with each sharp breath. Grabbed his mask and chucked it across the roof. Tried not to wince when it pulled at the dried blood at the base of his head, disrupting whatever wound was back there.

God, this was stupid. Everything about the situation was stupid. The way that Matt and Tony were unconscious  _ again  _ and it was up to Peter to do something about it. The way that they were stranded on a random fucking rooftop where the only hope of getting out would be either flying or walking until someone nice happened to spy three heroes on the side of the road. The way  _ the ocean continued to crash against the shore, the way the sky was blanketed in a dreary shade of grey, the way Peter’s heartbeat hadn’t slowed down.  _

The way Peter couldn’t remember what happened in the past twenty four hours. Or maybe more, he didn’t exactly know how long he was knocked out.

More rumbling. This time, closer. Vibrations fluttered under the soles of his shoes as it wracked through the building. 

Matt should have have woken up from that alone. 

Yet he hadn’t, and Peter needed to take action. Needed to get them away from the location, get them back home.

So with a couple of forced slow breaths, Peter pushed himself off of the lip of the building and walked towards the two, crouching with a sigh. Reaching out, and closing his eyes. “Sorry, Tony,” he said to the open air.

Then, he grabbed and pulled. 

For some reason, Peter thought that Tony would’ve jumped up right then and there and grabbed his hand, hissing at him for even thinking about taking the suit away. Yet of course, the man only moved the first couple of centimeters before the arc reactor was removed from his body.

He didn’t realize how tightly his eyes were screwed shut until he squinted one open, eyeing the housing unit in his hand. Now without Tony, the bright blue light was gone. Instead, the machine remained warm in residual heat, looking as grey as the clouds. 

“Okay, that wasn’t  _ so  _ bad,” he wondered aloud. Now came the hard part, though.

Peter, with shaky hands, brought the arc reactor to his own chest. The thought of the piece of machinery rejecting him hadn’t even occurred until the back met his front, little tingles going up and down his sternum in an experience that wasn’t necessarily good or bad. Shivers rattled up his bones as he removed his fingers, looking down and finding the reactor staying in place. 

He felt relieved when the blue light shone once more. 

There he was, wearing his Spiderman getup, donning the iconic arc reactor from Iron Man’s suits. Yet the inner fanboy in him remained quiet, a small reprieve that Peter hadn’t even known he needed until the small demon was gone.

“FRI?” he asked, hoping that the AI would be willing to listen. 

But as the seconds ticked by, he realized that she wouldn’t. And he didn’t really want to know why. 

Because the scenario hit a little too close to home, too close to last time where he was left all alone. But this time, even though they all still had their armor, things felt more desolate. Either from the experience he had with the similar situation, or from the insane differences.

Thunder in the background, this time followed by lightning. Peter wished that he could see the sun. 

He grabbed Tony’s limp hand and brought it to the reactor, sending out a silent prayer, right before tapping it twice. Almost instantly, particles began to roam across his body like water. Peter couldn’t help watching with amazement as the infamous red and gold colors of the Iron Man suit bled around him. Through him. Covered his frame like a blanket of safety, hugging him and never letting go. 

Peter held his breath when the helmet started forming. Almost in a childish manner, he closed his eyes and wished the best for his nose, despite knowing that the particles wouldn’t get through. The nanobots ruffled his curls as they passed through, feeling like a breeze on a warm summer’s day as they ghosted over his lashes.

But as the blinding light of the HUD colored his darkened view, he knew that everything would be alright.

“Hello, Peter,” Karen spoke.

Everything in him froze, before a gasp had his mouth opening and eyes widening in shock. Instantly he regretted it, snapping his eyes closed once more. “Karen?” he asked incredulously. He didn’t know which part shocked him more. The fact that his AI was in Tony’s suit, or the fact that he could hear her once more after muting her for so long.

“Yes, it’s me.” She spoke almost robotically, automatically turning down the brightness on the HUD to more acceptable levels. “How have you been? I’ve been off for quite some time.”

She was probing, but not overly so. Enough to give Peter distance that he needed, while still showing that she was there. His pulse calmed down at the familiarity, mentally chiding himself for turning her off in the first place. “Yeah, and I’m sorry about that. It’s just… been kind of rough, you know?”

He cracked his eyes open, letting out a breath of relief at the now acceptable lights. His vitals were in the top right of the screen, while Tony’s and Matt’s were on the bottom left corner. The other sides had nothing to fill the space, instead just showing the corners of his vision. Finally, Peter moved his hands to bring them up in front of him, marvelling at the precisity of the nanoparticles. 

And then it hit him. His earlier concern about the suit being measured specifically to Tony was a bunch of bull. A moment of fogginess in his thinking. Because of  _ course  _ the nanoparticles would be form fitting, designed to cover over any person without trouble. Peter wanted to kick himself for having such a thought.

“Unfortunately, I don’t know everything, but I’ll take your word for it.” Karen’s voice was calming in his ears, the ray of sun that was missing from the sky. Peter felt the beginnings of a smile ghost on his face, and suddenly things felt a little more okay despite the circumstances. “I’ve detected some blunt force trauma to the back of your head. Are there any signs of damage that I can’t scan?”

Cocking his head to the side, Peter crouched and began to lift Matt up as carefully as possible onto his back. “Um, I don’t think so?” He answered, wondering if his healing solved any problems that may have arisen before he regained consciousness. “Oh! Actually, I’m kind of blanking on the last few hours? Or however long? I don’t know. The last thing I remember is going on some sort of mission with Matt and Tony, and then everything is fuzzy.”

A hum in response. The pitch was high and led into a decrescendo, a stark difference to the low buzzing of the air as yet another storm got ready to sweep through New York. The waves were crashing wildly now, hitting rocks and dragging sand away.

“I’ll review the footage to see what’s missing.”

Peter nodded and was appreciative that the AI would go through so that he didn’t have to. A grunt fell from his lips as he hefted Tony into his arms bridesmaid style, fumbling to try to keep Matt on his back. “Yeah, do you think there’s anything that could help me out with these two?” he asked, undoubtedly looking pretty stupid with his movements.

A ripple of particles came from the arc reactor, replacing the ones closest to the housing unit and sending a wave out, bringing the rejected nanites to his back to form a belt around Matt’s waist, legs, and arms, holding him secure. Peter let out a relieved smile at last, appreciating the help. 

Now, with Tony in his hold and Matt with his arms around his neck drooping to about his collarbones, Peter stood and walked to the edge of the building. 

“Alright, Karen, I’m gonna need some help here. Do you mind letting FRIDAY back on?” As much as he liked talking to Karen, something told him that FRI would be a little more experienced with flying. And also, if needed, she could take over the suit and guide Peter to safety. He wasn’t entirely sure if Karen could do things as efficiently.

“As you wish, Peter.” Silence followed her words, the sounds of outside muffled against his covered ears. Then, another voice echoed through the helmet.

“Hello Peter,” FRI greeted warmly. “It’s certainly a surprise to see you in the suit. Would you like help figuring out how to control it?”

Peter blinked, and he could’ve sworn he saw a raindrop cross in front of his vision. Maybe the storm was closer than he anticipated. “Hey FRI, it’s nice to hear you again. And I’m sorry for snapping at you earlier, I wasn’t actually mad at you.”

“It’s no problem. I’ve dealt with enough of boss’s outbursts to know what to do in each one.” The reassurance did wonders for the teen as he took two steps forward, standing on the lip of the building. Even though he was technically wearing two suits, there was hardly a difference. The technology in the nanoparticles was insane like that.

“Alright then, can you take me home?” Oddly, his voice wavered at the word. Yet he didn’t have time to ponder whether it was just a simple mishap or if there was some actual connotations behind it before FRI was responding.

“Of course, Peter. Plotting route to Stark Tower.”

His eyes snapped open as he realized that FRI thought he meant  _ her  _ home. Or Tony’s temporary home, whatever. “Oh, no no no!” he rushed out, but it was too late. The bottom of his feet lit up, blast sending him upwards and towards the clouds.

And really, he should’ve known that there was difference between flying by web and flying via Tony Stark Express. Because flying on strands of webbing? Peter was in control of that. He could shoot out as little or as much as he wanted and could gain as much momentum as he needed. Every arc was done practiced and precise, sending a feeling of freedom rushing through his veins.

Yet flying in an Iron Man suit? Completely different. It could’ve just been because he asked FRI to take over the controls, but this mode of transportation felt… less steady. He didn’t know the correct physics of the repulsors, didn’t have a good feel of the suit yet. Peter was just blindly going on the ride, unable to dip and swing and turn like he usually did. No, now he was taking a straight path northward. 

At this speed, everything blurred together to his enhanced vision. He had no idea where he was, the only indication that they were at least still in New York coming from the tiny map at the bottom left corner of his eye. 

Sounds were muffled in his ears, wind crashing against the helmet and flying around it like a torpedo. Distantly, he cringed and was slightly relieved that Matt was asleep for this part. If he were awake, there was no doubt that the man would’ve been in sensory hell.

The ride only lasted a few minutes at most, yet it felt like ages to Peter. Throughout the entire journey, his two occupants didn’t do so much as move despite what was going on around them. Tony remained curled up in his arms, while Matt’s head continued to rest on the side of the helmet.

When they touched down, Peter let out yet another sigh of relief. And really, what was up with all of the huffing today? He rolled his eyes, making a mental note to calm it down. “Thanks, FRI,” he told the AI, despite not really wanting to be at the tower. Rather, Matt’s home.  _ His  _ home. 

“My pleasure, Peter,” she answered, before hesitantly adding, “I’ve bypassed boss’s command to only have the suit respond to him. You’re able to take it on and off without his touch now, if that makes anything easier for you.”

He closed his eyes and let an appreciative smile appear, soft and true. Tension leaked from his shoulders with every passing second, the stress from the past however long finally fading into the background. “Yeah,” he borderline whispered. “Yeah, it does. Thank you.”

Peter walked through the balcony doors, entering the large living room that he spent many movie nights in. Everything was the same from the last time he visited. The TV was still against the wall, black screen sticking out against the white and grey furniture that littered the space. 

With slow movements, he gently laid Tony down on the couch. Then, silently saying a blessing to the billionaires immaculate style, he put Matt on the other side of the couch, still leaving a sizeable space between the two. He had to do some weird monkey contorts to do so, yet ultimately prevailed. 

Now free of extra weight, Peter tapped the middle of the arc reactor with his pointer finger. Almost immediately, the feeling of nanoparticles crawling across his body came through, starting from his head and toes and working its way up into the housing unit. He gasped at the sensation, unable to categorize it in any other way than wind pelting any water drops away from his suit as he was on the free dive off of a tall building.

It only took a few seconds, but eventually Peter was left in his suit alone. The arc reactor felt kind of weird, placed right above his spider drone, but ultimately had a kind of natural feel to it. Perhaps in the small time that he had it on, the teen had grown accustomed to it. 

Either way, the marvelous piece of technology wasn’t his to wear. So with a tug, the arc reactor was removed from his person and placed on the coffee table in front of the giant couch, blue light turning off once more.

“Hey FRI,” he asked aloud, knowing that the AI would hear his voice. Sure enough, the sound of electricity shooting through the walls filled his enhanced ears, crackling and bringing a corner of the room to life. 

  
“Yes, Peter?” she asked from the camera, voice steady. The teen started walking to the kitchen, before rerouting and walking down the hallway to Tony’s room.

“Would you snitch on me if I stole some of Tony’s clothes and borrowed some of his hologram to work while I wait on them to wake up?” 

Whether or not she said no to the first part of the question didn’t matter. Either way, Peter was stealing some extra clothes. At the bare minimum, the teen deserved a fresh shower and some clean clothes.    
  
He pulled open the first drawer he saw as he walked in the room when the AI got back to him. “I’m sure he wouldn’t mind. I’ve set up a location in the living room for you to review footage with Karen.” A pause, then, “I’ve also started the shower for you. Towels are under the sink.”

Sure enough, not even a second later the sound of water filled the space. God, he loved her. “God, I love you,” he breathlessly responded, somehow almost feeling completely relaxed despite the clusterfuck of a situation they were in. 

The lights shone a tad brighter for a split second, a version of happiness that the AI somehow developed. 

Peter went into the bathroom and slapped the spider ensignia in the middle of his suit, feeling the material balloon around him. It only took a little wiggle of his shoulders and the Spiderman costume was pooling around his feet on the ground, looking rather sad. Only did then he remember his mask that was still on the rooftop building. 

“Oh,  _ shit,”  _ he hissed, panic once more flooding through his system while tension strangled him. “My mask!”

FRI responded quickly this time, voice louder so that she could hear him from the bedroom. “Shortly before you left, a drone was sent out to retrieve the material, courtesy of Karen.” 

And just like that, he was left feeling exhausted after all of the emotional turns that he had faced in the time since he woke up. Peter closed his eyes and dug the heels of his palms into them, phosphenes dancing around his vision. 

Instead of gracing the AI with a well deserved thank you, he stepped into the shower. Didn’t even bother adjusting any of the hot or cold dials, instead just letting the feeling water fall into his curls, cascading in rivulets down his body. Washing away the blood that gathered behind his head, washing away the events of the past month, washing away his mistakes and sins.

God, they were stuck in the same situation as before, weren’t they? Tony and Matt would wake up eventually with no recollection as to who the other person was, Peter would have to track down Leonard once more after he managed to slip away, and everything would just be in a constant loop.

They would find him. They would try to find the cure. They would get beat, forget everything once more, and then start the repetitive cycle once more only for the  _ same exact thing to happen once-- _

Peter scrubbed soap over his body, hating the feeling of being in his own skin. He ignored the way he had to come to terms with his broken heart, because if anything, this only served as a reminder that good things fell apart. 

It felt strange, almost. How he knew the eventual fate of the heroes, yet still somehow would be stuck in a loop of doing the same thing over and over. Because that’s reality, right? That’s Parker luck taking his head and throwing him like he was a softball. Only stopping for a second as he was met with the bat of life, sending him higher and further away. Just to be caught and then used once more.

It must be a joke. A cruel joke against him. Right when things get good for him, things start settling down, something happens. 

He scrubbed more soap over his body. Was his skin red, or was his vision just messing with him? Showing him his suit, trying to drag him back into memories of failure and death of others? Or was it showing him all of the blood that was on his hands? Was there water even falling from the showerhead anymore, or was it a red river?

Peter closed his eyes and tucked his lips into his mouth, biting on them to the point that it was uncomfortable. He took a deep breath in more so that he could feel his lungs expand in his chest and feel the burn of holding it in for too long rather than actually needing it. Exhaled through his nose when it became too much, going as slow as possible so that it would burn on its way out as well.

He really wanted to hold Spinach and pet her. 

With that thought, Peter grabbed the shampoo and poured it onto his hand, lathering it into his curls. A sharp hiss came from his mouth as his fingers ghosted over the sore spot on his head. How hard had he been hit?

It didn’t take long for him to wash it out and move onto the conditioner, appreciating the high end feel that came with such luxurious items. Distantly, he felt bad for using Tony’s things. Peter was used to the common man budget. Any splash of richness that he used always left him feeling wrong. Especially since it wasn’t  _ his.  _

But also he just really wanted a shower. He deserved it, after all.

Peter dunked his head back and let the water cascade down his face, hitting his eyelashes like rain on a window. Conditioner fell from his hair and ran down his back, splashing on the floor and running down the drain. 

He felt like shit, but at least he was some clean shit.

Once the water was shut off and Peter dried himself and slipped on some of Tony’s spare clothes-- a worn out hoodie, followed by some black joggers that still had the price tags on them, coupled with some fuzzy socks that felt like heaven on his toes-- he made his way into the kitchen, sparing a glance towards the couch where he left the two men previously.

And just like the last time they were in this situation, one of them was gone. Except this time it wasn’t Tony. No, Matt was the one who was on the alert, twisting and turning his head constantly to try to discern where he was at.

It was obvious he locked onto Peter. From the way his shoulders pulled up against his ears as tension and overprotectiveness filled his body, to the way his inhale was loud enough to be heard from across the room. Even if the teen didn’t have super hearing, he would’ve heard the way the exhale didn’t follow. Not until Matt, in full Daredevil gear, stalked over towards Peter with purpose.

Which was… terrifying. Even though he knew that it was Matt, just seeing the glisten of the horns in the tower did something to Peter. Sent his fight or flight mode going off in the back of his head, spidey sense sending chills up his spine. Just to alert him that something was happening. About to happen. Whatever.

“Hey, Matt,” Peter said, clenching the ends of the hoodie sleeves in his hands. The man didn’t say anything until he got within arms distance of him, grabbing onto his shoulder and  _ pulling. _ With an  _ oomph,  _ Peter stumbled forward into Matt’s shoulder.

Before he could question what was going on, strong arms wrapped around Peter’s frame. Holding him, one wrapped around his shoulders and the other his waist. The horns of the helmet dug into his skin slightly as Matt tilted his head down, finally exhaling and letting most of the tension fall from his body.

Peter furrowed his eyebrows before wrapping his own arms around Matt’s waist, holding him close. Under his hands, it was more obvious how the man was shaking. But why was he shaking? 

Matt inhaled in the crook of Peter’s neck, letting the breath fall from his lips afterwards. Words seemed inappropriate for the time, like sending a request for a funeral date on the same day of the passing. So instead of saying anything, Peter just hugged Matt tighter, questions running through his head at a mile per second.

A few minutes later, Matt nodded. Either to himself or towards Peter, he didn’t know. Then he squeezed the teen one more time before releasing him from his hold. Sniffed, and then brought his hands to his mask. Just to adjust it. 

“Are you alright?” Peter finally asked, breaking the silence that clouded the duo. Matt seemed to wince at his voice because of the close the proximity. But nonetheless, the man nodded. And really, he should’ve expected that Matt would say that everything was fine even though the idiot was probably lying.

Matt cleared his throat, swiveling his head around the space. Then, in a gruff voice, asked, “Where are we?” 

It took a little too long for Peter’s brain to finally catch up with the situation, and when it did, he felt like he deserved to be pelted with a metal bat.

Matt had been there too. In the building with Leonard, doing whatever it was that they were sent to do. He lost just like Peter did. And now, he had woken up in a random place feet first next towards a person that he probably didn’t recognize. On top of that, he must’ve felt discombobulated with all of the technology in the tower.

Peter always hated being at the tower when he was in the middle of a sensory overload. Everything was too much. The electronic hum that emitted through each wall, the buzz of FRI as her voice reverberated through the space. The cameras, the tablets, the phones– everything. It all added up. That, coupled with the multiple layers of voices in each floor, made Peter want to rip his ears off of his head. 

He could only imagine the hell that Matt was going through. All of that? Along with the fact that his senses were infinitely better than Peter’s? He was probably dying over there. 

Ah. So that explains the shaking. And the sudden clinging. Matt latched onto Peter like a beacon in the foreign space. The knowledge that he was okay and that the teen was safe was probably what set everything off. 

“The tower. Tony’s tower.” Peter talked in low tones, keeping his voice near a whisper. He knew that it probably wouldn’t help with the fact that Matt could hear the people eighty stories below or the harsh whipping of the wind as the rain finally came through, but the sentiment was sure to be appreciated. 

For a second, realization crossed the lower half of Matt’s face in the form of his mouth opening, before abruptly closing. The emotion sparked something in Peter, something that felt dangerously like hope. Hope that Matt had remembered, that Leonard actually gave them the cure before vanishing. 

But just as it had come abruptly, it left in the same fashion. “Why are we here?” Matt asked, turning to where Tony was resting. Hopefully, the man would wake up soon. Once more, despite telling himself that he wouldn’t do it anymore, Peter let a sigh escape from his lips.

He knew not to let hope guide him. He  _ knew.  _ Yet for some reason, a lesson that he should have learned in the years past, he seemed to have forgotten that hope was a fickle thing. Something disguised as everything good and gracious, yet is only a wolf in sheep's clothing. 

Peter rubbed his face and went to the kitchen to fetch an apple, stalling in giving his answer. Just to give himself a little bit of time to think. To ponder. To crush the heavy feeling in his chest and turn the pain into a weapon that he could protect himself with.

Matt cleared his throat expectantly, very clearly ready to jump ship.

“We failed,” Peter told him. “We failed, and we’re here because you two were out of commision once more, and it was on me. You hear? It was on  _ me.”  _

He turned around with a fury in his bones, fists clenching as he pointed accusingly at Matt. “You and him?” He turned his righteous finger towards Tony, who started stirring. Perfect timing. “You both messed up, and I had to go save you, and guess what?”

Peter felt a self deprecating smile spread on his face, disbelieving laughter bubbling from his insides and erupting from his mouth in tones that sounded like they were from a man made of desperation. His arms were extended now, as if he truly were Atlas and he was holding the world on his back. “I turned my back on the target, and we  _ lost.”  _

Tony was squinting at him, groaning and getting up. Matt was stiff as ever, lips pressed into a thin line. The smile dropped from Peter’s face, replaced with a stone cold expression. “We. Lost. And now we’re back at stage one where you two don’t remember each other, and I’m going to have to--”

“What?”

For the first time since waking up, Tony spoke. Peter instantly snapped his neck in his direction while Matt just slowly turned his. There was a hobble in the man’s step, his left leg taking less weight than his right. Confusion was clear on his face as his eyes bounced between the two, waiting to say anything else until he was standing closer to the two. Completing the little triangle, just as they had before they went on the mission.

He cleared his throat and Peter wanted to snap at him to hurry up. But as it was, the teen was focused on lowering his breathing. Each exhalation was furious in motion, causing his nostrils to flare out. Surely he looked like some type of bull with all of the anger, the malice, the  _ hurt _ raging inside of him and radiating off of his person.

Yet Tony still spoke when he could, and the words were enough to freeze everything in Peter’s sea of red emotions.

“What do you mean, we don’t remember? I know a scary Devil themed vigilante when I see one. My only wonder is what the hell you two are doing in my tower?”

The reaction was slow. It waned a few seconds before it truly sunk in, hitting Peter like a cold breeze. He stumbled and fell back, grabbing onto the counter for dear life. The feeling in his legs were gone, the floor was gone, Peter was  _ gone.  _

They remembered?

“You remember?”

Matt ‘looked’ between the two once more, finally deciding it was his time to speak. “Yeah, I do. Except for the mission, I’m blurry on that.” He waved in Tony’s direction. “I know who Tony Stark is, yeah. There’s no forgetting that face or voice.”

For the first time this entire day, a laugh came out of Peter’s throat. One that wasn’t angry, one that wasn’t out of disbelief or sadness. No, this one was born of relief. Sweet, precious,  _ relief.  _

He slapped his forehead, eyes darting between the two.

They did it.

  
They won.

They hadn’t lost. They  _ won.  _

Matt and Tony remembered each other. They hadn’t forgotten Peter. Everything was fine, in all senses of the word. The relief was so palpable that it took the teen a few seconds to just breathe in the revelation that things were okay.

They were okay.

Matt and Tony had both lunged for him, but their hands never reached his body. Instead he waved them off, a smile so bright on his face that he could’ve sworn he saw the gleam reflecting off of the dark red of the Daredevil suit.

They were asking him questions, sure. If he was alright, what was going on, and if he needed to go to the medical ward. Yet all of those questions received no answers, each one covered by yet another.

Words were hard for Peter to muster up, all of his energy sapping in lieu of his sudden burst of relief. He probably looked delirious to the only other man there who could see, and most definitely sounded delirious to the other one. 

But one thing was certain. Something that was running through his head like a race horse on crack, bouncing up and down and left and right. 

“We did it. We won.”

_____

...Peter didn’t realize anything was wrong at first.

They all quickly fell back into their usual routines, adding the cats into the mix. Matt would wake up and check on Peter, do his thing in the kitchen and shower, and then together they would walk to the firm. He’d crack jokes with Foggy and shoot some kind smiles at Karen, and then eventually turn in to go out as Daredevil.

Tony continued wrapping himself up in dealing with government issues that he quickly pushed away whenever Peter would visit, favoring instead the idea of hanging out in the lab together to mess with some potential upgrades to either suit. Or playing with Dum-E and U, or even just making homemade cheeseburgers. 

They went through their daily lives for weeks, Tony and Matt taking turns going out with Peter, but never with each other.

Everything seemed fine. Everything  _ was  _ fine.

Until he asked Matt the last time he saw Tony.

“Whenever I woke up at his place, why?” he asked, fingers laced over his stomach as he stretched himself across the couch. Earlier that night, Matt had broken up a drug ring and had new cracks in two of his ribs to prove it. Claire wasn’t happy when she got the update, but since the injury wasn’t bad enough to warrant her attention, she was at least satisfied.

Peter stopped playing with Spinach when he heard the reply. Because  _ really,  _ with how lovey dovey Matt and Tony had been before the huge Leonard thing? They couldn’t have just dropped everything because nobody seemed to have a clear idea of what exactly went on.

All they could really remember was whatever Peter told them. And he himself could only remember marginal details, everything blurring together no matter how much he concentrated. Matt told him not to strain himself, that it was probably the head injury. Tony had yet to comment.

Either way, Peter kind of expected to see the two together some more. Not even necessarily Tony and Matt, maybe even Iron Man and Daredevil. And then him on the side as Spiderman, third wheeling in their small group that they somehow stumbled into.

Yet there was nothing. Zero, nada, zilch. 

Spinach meowed grumpily at the lack of attention and jumped off of Peter’s web hammock, little paws working quickly to get her to Matt’s couch, and in conjunction, his arms. 

That was another thing that kind of served as a warning sign. Before, him and Tony made a deal that all four kittens would get together every week or so to hang out. Yet that’s happened exactly once, when Peter was watching over Nugget while Tony flew out to hold an international conference over something that S.I. was developing. 

Karen and Foggy were asking about him. They barely met the billionaire, yet with the connection that they gained from adopting the kittens, they worried. Especially since Tony was the one who was adamant about the play dates, and he was resolutely the only one who had yet to actually show up.

Matt groaned when the little pressure of Spinach’s white paws ghosted over his ribs, a pitiful frown on his face. Clearly struck between wanting to move the purring baby or letting her stay. 

Peter decided for him, getting off of the hammock and gently moving the kitten in the space between Matt’s arm and the couch. Happy with the change of events, Spinach just laid down and licked at his skin once before falling asleep.

“Tell me,” the teen started, brows furrowed and a question on his mind. “Are you and Tony going to hang out again?”

The small jab was gentle enough to show no real connotations since they had teamed up before. All that time ago, with the girls in the warehouse. The event that started it all. Yet it would be revealing. Show if something really was wrong, and things weren’t as fine as they seemed.

But Matt was a lawyer, a man made to sniff out hidden meanings like that for a living. His sightless eyes shifted towards the ceiling, mouth opening slightly with his eyebrows raised. Working through the question, trying to understand what he was missing. 

When he couldn’t come up with anything, his eyebrows lowered to match Peter’s in their furrows. “Probably not? Unless something warrants the attention of Iron Man and Daredevil. But we’re kind of opposites on the hero spectrum, so I don’t suppose that would happen unless you specifically asked for us.”

Peter felt his heart skip and dread settle into his stomach. Matt must’ve noticed, too, because he tilted his head towards Peter. Yet before he could question, Peter blurted out, “No, not Daredevil and Iron Man. Matt and Tony. Are you going to see each other?”

The atmosphere in the room seemed to drop as the billboard outside shifted from a dark green to an almost blue purple. Matt shifted, moving Spinach to the top of the couch cushions. The angle surely felt like hell on his ribs, yet that didn’t stop him from propping himself up just so that he could show Peter that he had his full attention. Then he opened his mouth, and confirmed the horrible thoughts that were rushing through the teens head.

“We’ve never met before. Not before we were at his house. Why would we see each other?”

And just like that, everything was decidedly  _ not  _ fine. The past few weeks suddenly came alive and slapped Peter in the face, taking a sharpie and writing ‘IDIOT’ on his forehead.

Why didn’t he notice things sooner? The space that Matt was giving Tony, the absence of meet-ups. Tony never asking about Matt or Karen or Foggy. Iron Man and Daredevil staying in their respective parts. Never venturing, never straying.

There was a gap in the relationship that wasn’t there before. One that had been there  _ before,  _ before all of this. Before everything started. Whenever they were two separate people, living their own lives with Peter in the middle. Before Leonard started his reign of terror on their lives. 

Before Peter had brought them together. Before they got close. Before.

“... I feel like I’m gonna be sick.” 

The words sounded garbled to his ears, everything fading together into a blend of sound and smell and touch. Matt was there yet gone, away from the scene. Away from Peter. Away from Tony, from everything.

And then there was a hand on his shoulder. 

One that he didn’t even sense coming, one that he couldn’t see. His spidey sense hadn’t alerted him of any disturbing stimuli in the area. Or maybe it had, but the sensation hadn’t been noticed. Just like everything else.

He was pretty sure someone was saying his name. He’s positive that the floor was closer than it was before.

Thick, hot bile climbed its way up his throat as his thoughts slugged around his brain, darkening every nook and cranny. Painting as much space as possible. Showing, serving as a constant reminder of what was happening. What he had done. What he had failed to do.

Before he knew it, the hand at his shoulder transformed into two arms around him. There was a shuffle, maybe him being transported. Slower than a vehicle, faster than someone who wasn’t panicked. 

A cold surface against the side of his face. Fire breaking out of his mouth, falling into the void of space that surrounded him. 

Things were happening, and Peter was blind to it all.

He didn’t know where he was at, what was happening, or even how he got there. All he knew was that he was a  _ liar.  _

_   
_ Peter lied to himself, lied to Matt, to Tony, to everyone. Things weren’t fine. Why did he think things worked that way? Things were almost never that easy, especially for someone with the last name of Parker.

His stomach curled and more bile flew from his lips, sweat beading on his forehead and through his hair. Someone continued to run their hands through it, whispering comforting words that fell silent on deaf ears.

How did he not catch it? That Leonard swindled his way through once more? He gave their memories back, but took away all of the new ones that they’d formed together. That had to have been the only explanation for the missing friendship-- relationship. Barely begun and already thrown away in a pile of flames because of a lie disguised as a truth. 

Peter's senses were focusing in and out, bouncing from one intensity to the other. For a second, he could hear a teenager silently sobbing two blocks over. Then he could smell Karen’s faint perfume from the last time she visited over a week ago, the scent clinging onto one of Matt’s suits. And then there would be nothing but a ringing in his ears, causing him to blink and try to see past the blurriness that clouded his vision. 

It felt like Hell, and it felt like everything he deserved. 

It felt like forever-- it was probably only a few minutes-- before Peter’s stomach stopped clenching, having nothing to spew out. Every part of him ached and groaned, sore from the curled up position he found himself in. It took a little bit, but he finally processed that the other person there with him was Matt. 

“So-sorry. I’m sor-ry,” he whispered to the void, voice not even registering to his own ears. Yet by the way the hand on his back that was rubbing circles stilled, he assumed that Matt heard it.

The most fucked up part of his apology was the fact that he didn’t know what he was apologizing for.

Was it for taking so long to realize anything was alright? For having a complete and utter breakdown? For Matt, with his injured ribs, having to pick him up and coddle him like a child? A  _ baby? _

He decided there was too much to apologize for. 

Matt probably said something. Peter didn’t know, his senses were still taking a dive for the Hudson. He was panting, taking in the air that he lost when he was puking his brains out. 

The pressure on his back was gone, signaling Matt had left. Seconds later there was a cool washcloth on his head. Peter sighed at the sensation, letting his useless eyes flutter shut. Another sound that sounded far off and the teen knew that he had been carried to the toilet in the bathroom.

Tears leaked from his eyes and felt like acid on his skin. Burning hot like lava, creating patterns on his cheeks that turned the area red and puffy. Another hand on his face, holding his jaw. Pushing it to the side gently so that the washcloth could dab around the streams, clearing them and making way for more. Peter was a fool for leaning into the embrace. 

His clothes were sticky and gross on his body yet he couldn’t find it in himself to care. All of the energy had been sapped away, flushed down the toilet with the rest of the bile. 

The washcloth disappeared and the hands snaked behind his back and around his legs. Then he was in the air, cuddled across Matt’s chest. Rubbing against his sore ribs. Making everything worse, as usual.

A small and pitiful choked off excuse for a sob rattled through his frame, and for a split second he could hear the grinding of bones. The sound, even though only present for a short amount of time, echoed throughout Peter’s mind. Strangely, it sounded like guilt.

The hands around his body disappeared along with the warm protection they covered, instead replaced with sheets and a blanket that felt otherworldly. Soft and perfect for his senses to latch on. Kind of cold with disuse for the night but delectable all the same. Peter took an inhale that he didn’t realize he needed and his nose was filled with the light and comforting smell of Matt. 

Matt. He was in Matt’s bed. 

He was taking the space that the man needed, especially considering his injuries. The couch wouldn’t be comfortable for him, he should’ve just put Peter on his own bed. But then saying that felt like climbing a mountain just for the first syllable and then he would seem ungrateful for the gesture and--

A light pressure on his head. Matt kissed his forehead. 

And then the feeling was gone, replaced with a hand carding through his curls. A whimper may have slipped, but he didn’t know. All he knew was that everything was shutting down, all of his senses one by one finally resting. 

Peter brought his hand up slowly and grabbed onto Matt’s wrist with a pitiful grip. He didn’t get to do much else before succumbing to the darkness.

  
  
  


_____

  
  


So.

Matt was a  _ little  _ confused, which at this point felt kind of normal. So really, things couldn’t be  _ that _ bad, right?

One second Peter was asking him harmless questions, and then next he was having a full on mental breakdown. One that was coupled with a complete sensory overload that just so happened to topple into a sort of deprivation. 

Which, although bad, was what Matt knew how to handle. Mainly because he had to handle it himself all those years ago when it was him in the orphanage. He remembered the violent sway in everything, the way his senses couldn’t focus on one thing at a time. Instead they fought for the spotlight and gave him a killer migraine in the process.

He threw up and writhed and shivered and had to pick himself up afterwards and pretend like it never happened. All he wanted was for a nun to walk in one day and rub comforting circles on his back, let him know things were okay-- even if he wouldn’t be able to hear. He wanted someone to push his hair back and wash the sweat off his forehead and bile off of his lips when he was done.

Yet that never happened, and it was a rinse and repeat process.

But now? When it happened to Peter for the first time? He did all of that. Let the boy know that things were okay and that they were okay, because even though he didn’t know what caused the meltdown he knew that they’d bounce back from whatever happened.

It didn’t help the stab of helplessness every time Peter made a sad sound. And it certainly didn’t help the boulder-to-the-face feeling when he apologized for what was happening. 

So even though Matt’s ribs lit his side up in shades of untamed fire, he picked Peter up and gave him the silk sheets and blankets and bent over to kiss him on the forehead. To let him know that there was no blame here. That everything would be fine, that Matt still loved him.

It wasn’t long before Peter clonked out. Matt continued standing there, though, just to listen. Make sure that he didn’t wake up in a fit, didn’t jolt and get thrown back in a world of hell. He didn’t know how long he stayed. Probably long enough to be deemed creepy. The only thing that broke him out of his train of focus was the soft thump of the sheets as Spinach tried-- and failed-- to get on the too-big bed.

The kitten meowed at her failure and then tried again, successfully getting her two front paws up. And really, that was enough to motivate the tiny kitten to scramble her way to victory. The sight that painted its way through Matt’s senses brought a smile to his face.

He heard the sound of her whiskers cutting through the air as she looked in between Peter and Matt, little heart beating faster as her nose wiggled and caught the scent that clung to the teen’s clothes. 

The sheets dipped with each step, only stopping when Spinach got close enough to sniff at Peter’s face. Matt was about to lean forward and grab the kitten, worried that it may wake him up, when Spinach sought out the space between his shoulder and head, laying down and placing her head on his throat. 

A huff of joy left Matt’s nose through a sharp exhale, imagining that the small critter was acting as a guardian angel for the teenager.

“You’ll protect him when I’m not here?” Matt found himself asking. More because he needed to reason with himself that Peter would be fine if he left. If he went to investigate.

Spinach lifted her head and turned it in his direction, meowing quietly before placing it back down. This time with a purr.

Well. If that wasn’t a confirmation, then Matt didn’t know what was.

His steps were silent as he left the room, closing the door and only leaving a crack big enough for the kitten to smush her way through in case she wanted to leave. Then, he padded into the living room and sunk on the couch, biting back a groan as his ribs jostled in protest. 

This definitely wasn’t how he expected the rest of his night to go, but oh well.

Matt felt his eyebrows furrow as he thought back to the line of questioning that started this all. Every question seemed harmless enough, nothing too life threatening or even prodding. So why had Peter’s heart jumped at the mention of him not keeping in contact with Tony?

He had no reason to, after all. The man was just someone who Peter valued in his life, a role model taking the place of a father figure, just like Matt. They didn’t talk to each other like coparenting would suggest and they didn’t even float in the same circles. Stark was just a billionaire in a tin can that saved the world while Matt was a lawyer in a devil suit who saved the people on the streets.

Yet, something was missing.

Nothing explained the smell of another man on Matt’s sheets, the same smell that clouded the tower he woke up in a few weeks ago. Nothing explained the ping of longing, of sadness that hit when he walked into Fogwell’s. Nothing explained how he had a phone number in his phone and burner with the initials TS. 

A sigh rumbled through his body and escaped his parted lips, body creaking and groaning at the movement.

Maybe calling the number would give him some answers.

_____

  
  


Tony knew that he was entering the Ungodly Hours of the night. Or day, however you chose to look at it.

The hours that the city of New York settled down. Where most crime had been busted and all the vigilantes went home either satisfied or completely numb to the world. Where people slept and forgot about their daily troubles. Where the stars, though barely there, managed to twinkle in little hints throughout the sky.

Tony should be asleep.

But something was wrong.

Something didn’t make sense.

He couldn’t pin what it was. But it was there, in the back of his mind. Telling him to find out what was happening. What was gone. And for lack of a better guess, it all tied back to Daredevil. 

Tony couldn’t look at dark shades of red without getting a feeling in his gut that he was missing something. Something big, something that meant a lot to him. He’d furrow his eyebrows and look away, but the sensation would wash over his body in feelings that suspiciously reminded him of longing.

One day, while looking for a pair of sunglasses to go with his outfit, he had to take a step back and breathe. His fingers burned like ice and television static as they ghosted over a pair of blood red lenses. Something about the color was familiar, almost like a memory that was dragging its way up front. Fighting with chains and metal walls to get through, screaming the name of a man he didn’t know.

He didn’t understand. So he stayed up.

He kept his mind occupied with things he  _ did  _ understand. Formulas and equations on how to upgrade the newest Stark patented device. Screens thinner than a strand of hair and bodies barely thicker than a fingernail. 

These were things he knew like the back of his hand. Things he could explain.

He couldn’t explain the number on his phone saved under MM, ringing with a tone that Tony didn’t remember buying. 

Everything in him was telling him not to pick it up. That’s how you found out that a villain captured your loved one and was going to kill them on national television, right? Or that’s how you found out that your partner was pregnant with a baby you aren’t equipped to handle. It’s either one of those options in stories most of the time.

Yet neither of those were plausible for Tony.

So with a shrug and a ‘what the fuck could go wrong?’ Tony picked up the phone. 

And then promptly realized that he had no idea how to start the conversation.

Did he go with his sarcastic and witty response? Or did he go straight to questioning who the fuck had his number? Should he play it off and seem cool as a cucumber to try to coax some answers without showing that he has no clue what’s going on?

‘MM’ answered before he could come up with a decision.

“Who is this, and why do I have your number?” 

And wow, that  _ voice.  _ Something about the baritone vocals pulled at something in Tony, another thing demanding to be pulled to the front of his mind. Familiar and recognizable, yet as alien as a stranger on the street. 

It took an alarmingly long time for Tony to realize that he had to answer. “Uh, depends. Is this Savannah from the supermarket?” 

The stranger scoffed almost inaudibly, the sound most likely paired with an eye roll. “Do I sound like a Savannah?” they asked in a dull tone. 

Tony started feeling bad that he didn’t recognize whoever this was. From the sounds of it, they’d hit it off splendidly. 

He hummed, notes jumping up and down after a steady stream. Then, in a nonchalant voice accompanied with a shrug, Tony said, “No, not really. But you  _ do  _ sound like a man with the first name that starts with an M. Michael, Miles, Maverick?”

Instead of gracing him with an affirmative or negative, the stranger played off of his words. “And you sound like a man with a name that starts with a T. Tony, Tobias, Theo?”

Tony pouted. “Hey, not fair. There’s not as many names out there that start with a T as there are M’s.” 

When MM spoke next, there was most definitely a smile. “Ah, on the dot then. I’m guessing Tony?”

“You know my name, it seems only fair that you tell me yours. Since you called me, after all.”

It didn’t escape his notice how weird the situation was. Him, with a phone number with the initials MM. This stranger, who apparently had Tony’s number saved under T. And if he had to guess, S as well. 

Once more, something wasn’t adding up. 

“We’ll just stick with Michael for now,” the man-- Michael, apparently-- told him. Then, “Why do I have your number in my phone? I never give it out.”

Tony pushed the sleeves of his shirt over his thumbs, stepping away from his project. His legs strained in protest after being still for so long, back popping after being folded. “Sounds like we’re in the same boat, Michael. Which, by the way, I’m not fully convinced is your name, which. Y’know. Low blow, considering I gave you mine.”

A few seconds of silence, and Tony had to check that he was still on the line. “...I’m going to assume this is some elaborate prank dished out from my son.”

Hm. Yet again a feeling clawed through his mind, scratching and leaving its mark on every surface. But Tony couldn’t decipher exactly  _ what  _ it was. “Well that’s only slightly terrifying, considering he managed to hack into both of our phones in order to do so.”

A chuckle. “Yeah, Peter is smart enough to do so. I’m… sorry for bothering you. I’ll delete your number and talk to him about it in the morning.”

Tony stopped moving, everything in him going still. That had to be a coincidence, right? There’s no way. “I’m sorry, did you say your son’s name is Peter?”

“Yes?” Michael asked hesitantly. “Do you know him?”

He licked his lips, fingers at his sides twitching. “Depends. Does his name have some funky alliteration that’s ruined by a middle name that seemingly came out of nowhere?”

Silence.

Then, “Who are you?”

The voice sounded cold, completely different from before. Michael seemed to fade away into a darker version of himself with the demand phrased as a question. Years of dealing with the next James Bond villains was probably the only reason why Tony didn’t shudder in fear.

“I’m Tony Stark. See why it was so confusing as to why you knew my number?”

Once more he was met with silence. Tony opened his mouth to ask for Michael’s last name before the dial tone greeted him.

Did.

Did he just get hung up on?

Oh no, oh  _ hell  _ no.

Tony now had more questions than answers, and his fourteen-cup-caffeine fuelled brain wouldn’t accept Michael as the reason for why. 

“FRI, be a dear and track the IP address of that call for me.”

Two taps to his arc reactor had the suit forming around him, right as she answered with, “As you wish, boss.”

Time to get some clarity.

___

  
  


Tony wasn’t really expecting much when he knocked on the door of the residence. Just a man that supposedly took Peter in. Someone that the teen talked about a lot, yet never revealed a name to. If he was honest with himself, he’d say he was expecting a man in his late thirties with long blonde hair and kind of on the bigger side.

That was his justification for his reaction when the man opened the door.

In front of him couldn’t have been a man. No, he had to have been an absolute God with how absurdly attractive he was. Even in a loose jacket and sweatpants tucked into fuzzy socks he was gorgeous. To top it all off were the red rimmed circular glasses that covered his eyes, somehow accenting the fluffy bedhead.

Tony felt his heart skyrocket, which. Was kind of alarming? 

The man shuffled a bit in place, before asking, “Who’s there?”

And  _ that’s  _ when it occurred that the glasses were because he was blind.

All words left his mind and he could’ve sworn there was an ellipses hanging above his head. Not only was he being insensitive to Michael, but he also was making himself out to be incredibly rude just by standing there and saying  _ nothing. _

“Oh- uh- yeah. I’m assuming you’re Michael?”

_ Hello, yes, I swear I’m a genius. I just can’t show that in front of stupidly hot people. _

Michael tensed up, head moving to face Tony as well as he could do. “Are you aware of what time it is, Mr. Stark?” he asked, managing to sound defensive yet hurtful at the same time. 

Tony checked his watch and saw that it was almost six AM. He let out a sound of surprise, before shrugging. “I am now? Either way, I didn’t come here for a time check. I’m assuming that you have some questions?”   
  
“Yeah, mainly ranging from ‘what are you doing here?’ and ending at ‘when are you leaving?’ Sprinkled in are questions like ‘would it be inappropriate to slam my front door in the face of a hero, and how different is it to telling the local church that I’m taken?’”

Tony snorted. He liked this guy.

“Well, to answer your questions, I’m here because apparently you’re the man who’s co-parenting Peter, and I’m realizing that I should probably get to know you. Especially if he considered it appropriate for both of us to have each other's phone numbers without letting either of us know. I’ll leave once things are sorted, and I’m assuming it’s inappropriate to slam the door in anyone’s face? And I’m not exactly here with a pamphlet, so.”

Michael stood there for a few seconds, tilting his head to the side in consideration. A sigh escaped his lips and Tony knew that he’d won. 

The door opened wider in an invitation and Tony waltzed in, noticing the way that Michael favored one of his sides when walking. An injury? 

“Peter’s sleeping in my room, so let’s keep this quiet. He needs the sleep.” Michael gestured to the side of the couch, which Tony took. The other man headed towards the kitchen. “Would you like something to drink? Coffee, tea, milk?”

“Coffee, please,” Tony answered, waving his hand. His pulse sped up once more at the prospect of getting even more caffeine and a smile threatened to jump on his face. He’s sure that if Michael knew how much coffee he actually consumed already, he probably wouldn’t have offered it as a beverage. 

Nevertheless, the man frowned and nodded, flying around the kitchen with precise movements that could only be gained from practice. It was almost mesmerizing watching him move, and Tony couldn’t help himself but watch. 

A little bit later had both men on the couch, respective cups in hand. Tony sipped on his drink and it took everything in him not to let out an undignified sound. “God, can I hire you? Just to make my coffee, nothing else. I pay handsomely.”

He was met with a tight lipped smile. “Unfortunately, a makeshift barista isn’t in my ten year plan.”   
  
“Bummer.”

Tony took another drink and closed his eyes, making a mental note to FRI to change up his coffee beans. When he opened them, Michael was shifting once more. “Side injury?” he asked, just to fill the space with something.

The man in front of him grimaced, before nodding. “Nothing too bad, just enough to be a nuisance.” 

Tony nodded in understanding, before sighing. Time to get to the personal questions. “Why did you call my number? Not that I’m not happy about it. I got some pretty wicked coffee from this entire thing.”

The billboard painted the living room in a shade of orange that Tony associated with Fanta. The color was chilled out, hitting Michael’s back and giving him some pretty lighting that did  _ things  _ to Tony’s heart. 

The man turned his head, ear facing Tony. Then, a hint of a frown. “I’m not entirely sure,” he answered in a quiet voice. “I found the number a little while ago and was thinking earlier. Just seemed like it was time to get some answers.”

A wry smile found its way onto Tony’s face as a surge of sympathy cruised through his veins. “But while you may have gotten one answer, it led you to thousands of more questions?”

From this angle, Tony could see behind the red glasses. The color of Michael’s eyes were still a mystery, too covered up by the incredibly long lashes that Tony found himself admiring. And like an angel had graced him, those lashes fluttered and closed over his eyes, a wistful smile joining the party. “Yeah, you could say that.”

Tony found himself forgetting about the ambrosia in his hands, instead too busy focusing on the man in front of him. From his ruffled up hair to the shadows created by his lashes. His pink lips, his incredibly strong and sharp jawline with just enough stubble to make men and women alike swoon. His outfit that screamed softness in more ways than one. In the way he held himself, strong and ready for anything, yet lax in a way Tony had never seen.

The man was perfect, and something was screaming at him in the back of his head to kiss him.

Yet that would be wildly inappropriate and just all around wrong, so Tony kept that urge to himself. But he couldn’t stop thinking about there possibility being an ulterior motive to the train of thought. It was the same tug he had felt for weeks, only now it was stronger than ever. Perhaps he was wrong about it being because of Daredevil. Maybe it was because of Michael. 

But that raised another question: did Michael have the same panging memories as he did?

Was he hit with a wave of nostalgia at the sound of Tony’s voice? Did he long for something he had years ago, just by the smell of his cologne? Did he even imagine a future together, or was he just as sane as everyone else?

Tony cleared his throat and found that he wasn’t sure if he wanted the answers to those questions. Instead, he asked, “Has Peter been acting weird recently? Mentioned anything out of the ordinary that may have clued you in to his devious plan?”

Something flashed across Michael’s face, a remembrance of an event. It painted his features in surprise before being washed away with a casual look. “Yeah, actually. He started questioning me about you, believe it or not.”

And then Michael was turning towards him, glasses concealing any and all emotions that he may have been feeling. “About us getting back together.”

Tony’s heart jumped at the wording, mouth going as dry as the Sahara desert. He felt the way his eyes widened and his fingers clenched at his clothing, stiffness making his posture immaculate. 

Michael hummed and nodded slightly as if confirming something, before taking a sip from his coffee. When he finished, he let the cup rest against his bottom lip. “But that’s weird, right? Because we’ve never hung out.” 

His tone was prodding, poking Tony for further explanation. And Tony found himself opening his mouth, ready to spew all the words in the encyclopedia and then some. He stopped himself before a single decibel could cut through, though. 

Instead he cleared his throat and tried to force some type of calmness in his voice. “Weird indeed.” He offered, brows coming down and mushing together. 

Michael was giving him an option, Tony belatedly realized. A way for him to explain himself or to leave it off the table. Letting him decide if he wanted to share the vulnerable piece of information with someone who was essentially a stranger and who may judge him, or to just let it fester in his mind. Never to see the light of day.

The option was clear.

“Do you…” he found himself starting. Michael waited patiently as Tony found his words, only offering a hand waving gesture to let him know that it was okay to continue. “...feel like, I don’t know. There’s a portion of your memory missing? Like, a few weeks have gone by and you weren’t present in your body to experience them?”

Michael raised his eyebrows above his glasses, the only indication that he heard him before responding. “Um, yes?” he answered rather clumsily, incredibly unlike his earlier speech patterns. 

Tony, with the newfound similarity, felt hope for an answer bubble in his chest. “And do you feel like there’s something in your mind that’s there, but you can’t reach it? It’s right there. You can practically  _ taste  _ the sensation, but every time you strain it just seems to get farther and farther?”

A few seconds of terse silence. The man stopped breathing, and only continued when he got up off of the couch. Didn’t even wince as the fast motion pulled at his sore ribs. Instead, he ripped the glasses off of his face, and walked over to where the window was with startling accuracy. Hands on his hips, facing away. 

Tony got up, too, walking until he was behind him. Michael brought up the hand that wasn’t carrying his glasses and rubbed the bottom half of his face, cupping his jaw and turning around at the same time. On the next strong exhale, he pointed towards Tony. “He must’ve set you up to this, didn’t he? There’s no way that...” 

Without the glasses acting as a barrier, Tony could finally see Michael’s eyes. And with them, he saw as a thousand emotions waged a war, fighting for dominance. Fighting to be up front, to get shown to the world. Every expression told from just his eyes. 

Tony was mesmerized. Even as guilt won, shining dark and true.

“Peter would never do that. Not to me,” Michael said the words quietly, more to himself than anything. He was looking at roughly the same area as Tony’s hip, eyes bouncing everywhere as his mind worked in overdrive. Tony just wanted to reach forward and scoop him up into a blanket and hug him until everything was alright again.

And then, Matt stilled. Tony watched as his chest started rising and falling more harshly, line of sight slipping up all the way until he was looking a little left of Tony’s nose. “You.. were you… were you with the girls? In the warehouse, with Peter?”

If anyone were to overhear the conversation, they probably would’ve been mortified at the explanation. Yet the words made perfect sense to Tony, sending a shock wave of remembrance through his body. “It was him, Daredevil, and I. Things were going good, until…”

Clogs turned quickly and Tony was finally seeing ends that didn’t seem to meet before. “Wait a minute, you’re Daredevil?” he asked first, just to make sure that he wasn’t being  _ entirely  _ ludicrous. 

Michael rolled his eyes, a look on his face that screamed ‘I Will Be Patient For Exactly Two Minutes Before I Smite You Into Oblivion.’ “I prefer to go by my first name, Matt, when I’m not in the mask.”

Tony felt an involuntary gasp break through his throat as Mich---  _ Matt, damn it--  _ ratted out his name. “A  _ liar,”  _ he called out scandalously, pointing a dramatic finger at the man in front of him. 

He received yet another Look, one that was telling him to get back on track. “Technically, I didn’t lie. I just gave you my middle name.”

“Whatever, a lie is still a lie.”

“No it’s-- look, can we get back on track?” Matt demanded, waving his hands before wincing. “Something had to have happened for us to suddenly miss something huge in our lives, and only Peter knows. Yet even a few simple questions sent him spiraling into a huge panic attack, so I’m not so sure how much help he would be at the moment.”

Tony was about to agree to the first half of Matt’s sentence, before the last half registered. He shook his head side to side rapidly, before bringing his hands in front of his body. “Hold on, what? A panic attack?”

Of course he knew that Peter had attacks. He’d be stupid not to assume so after everything that went on in the teen’s life. Yet hearing that he was part of the cause of one? A feeling of anguish coursed through his blood stream, numbing his fingers and sending a wave of haze through his brain.

Matt sighed, before walking to the couch and picking up their discarded mugs. “He’s fine. Or, really, he will be. He just needs some rest.”

On his way to the sink, Matt froze. Cocked his head to the side once more--  _ didn’t Peter make the same gesture? Is that, like, a habitual thing? Is that how Matt can do the things he can? _ \-- before sighing. Before Tony could question him on what, another voice joined the mix.

“I don’t need as much rest as you, you know.”

Tony whipped around and saw a haggard-looking Peter, leaning against the side of the sliding door with a cat in his arms. His hands were crossed over his chest and one leg was bent around the other, only the ball and toes of his feet touching the ground. Under his eyes were heavy bags, a stark contrast to the paleness of his skin tone.

“Pete,” Tony whispered, before getting covered by Matt.

“Lie,” he declared, depositing the mugs in the sink and turning around to lean against the counter. 

Peter rolled his eyes and finally turned towards Tony, a look of apprehension threatening to claw through his eyes and paint his features. “What are you doing here?” he asked quietly.

He dug his phone out of his pocket, pointing at it and then at Matt. “Turns out we had each other’s numbers in our phones. Any idea why?” 

The kitten in Peter’s arms opened her eyes, looking between all three of them before hopping away from her mighty perch. Peter just let her, watching as she padded away and went back into the room. 

A sigh broke through the space, Peter closing his eyes and rubbing his face. “I can’t believe I have to do this again,” he murmured low enough for Tony to barely hear. Then, louder, “You guys put it in there. After… after you guys started.”

Matt, from across the space, crinkled his brows and started moving closer to the duo. When he spoke, his tone was clear and questioning, somehow coming out as comforting at the same time.  _ Jesus,  _ Tony thought.  _ This man can speak amazingly. _

“What do you mean, Peter? After we started?”

Now they were standing in a stretched out triangle, the positioning once more tugging at something in Tony’s brain. The situation was familiar. Probably a scene that happened before, in either a movie or a show. 

Or maybe it happened to them, in the gap of time that was missing.

(He’s leaning towards that option, especially considering the look that Matt was sporting.)

“Man, don’t make me say it. Just draw conclusions!” Peter whined, moving closer and condensing the triangle. “After you guys, you know…” He made an impersonation of claws, pushing both of his hands closer until the tips of his fingers touched in the universal sign of ‘kiss.’

Tony and Matt both blanched, the former’s jaw dropping while the latter just moved his face to the side, his eyebrows shooting up. Peter cringed at their reactions, scrunching up his face. “Yeah, there’s quite a bit that happened…”

Matt sat down on the couch, bringing a hand to cover his ribs after. Tony let himself sink to the floor, the revelation washing over him and bringing confusion in its wake.

Peter looked guilty as he sank down with him. 

“So, let me just give you a basic run down…”

_____

  
  


It ended up taking a little over an hour before the ‘basic run down’ was finished.

The entire time, Matt progressed from looking pained, to awkward, to full on embarrassed. Tony cycled through the same emotions, only proudness and a little bit of a smug smirk sneaking through.

“And we’re basically stuck in this loop where you guys end up forgetting something, and I’m left to deal with the consequences,” Peter finished, closing his eyes and rubbing his face with his sleeves that covered his hands. At one point he had to get up and change, saying that his clothes weren’t comfortable enough for the heavy topic at hand.

By now, the outside world was wide awake and hustling to get wherever it needed to go. The sun was shining brilliantly through the window, drowning out the color of the billboard and painting Matt’s place in light shades. 

Tony was biting his bottom lip in thought, while Matt sat perfectly still. The only indication that he was still present and paying attention was the fact that every once and a while he would nod his head or move it to the side in question. He never voiced anything, though, letting the teen get out his bearings.

But now the apartment was as silent as it could be with all three occupants wordless and lost in their own minds as they formulated what to do next.

Spinach made another appearance about half way through the retell, quietly nibbling on some of the squishy cat food that was left out for her in the kitchen. She only walked up to Tony to sniff him before looking at him with her giant eyes and going under the coffee table, curling into a ball and snoozing off right there.

“Well,” Matt finally spoke, voice quiet and commanding. “Last time, did we show any indication of remembering anything? Any tugging memories, random and displaced emotions?” 

The question was directed to the air, leaving it up for grabs. Tony and Peter looked at each other, as if wondering who was going to be the one to answer. 

In the end, it was Peter who addressed it. “Not to my knowledge? You guys didn’t ever mention anything. And I don’t really think that you did because I feel like things would have been drastically different.”

Tony scoffed. “Yeah, I think they would’ve been too.” Then he clapped his hands, standing up from his position on the floor and immediately regretting it. His muscles were sore after being stuck in the same place for so long and his knees cracked after getting bent. Matt’s nose twitched. “Either way, we only have forwards to go. So, any idea how to break whatever magical voodoo was placed on us?”

“Um, I’m sorry, but were you not paying attention?” Peter asked in a sarcastic voice, getting up with more grace and much less bodily noise than Tony. “We don’t only have forwards, we have a constant spring. Catch the guy, get zonked, and then go back to square one. There isn’t any breaking it, there’s only living through the loop.”

The bout of pessimism was enough to get Tony to pause in his forming his retaliation and reminded himself that. Peter had to go through this twice already. From the poorly disguised story, it hit him harder than he wanted them to know. He was suffering, watching him and Matt suffer. 

“Pete, listen--” Tony started, ready to calm the teen down.

“No, you listen, Tony!” Peter nearly shouted, balling his hands into fists at his sides and gesturing around. “We have two options, and one of them we’ve done before! It’s either stay here and ignore the few weeks missing, or go on another wild goose chase to find a man that--”

“Kiss me.”

The two words broke through the start of Peter’s angry rant, effectively silencing the room. Tony whipped his head towards Matt, whose eyes looked lost against the expression on his face. His jaw was jutted out in defiance and his lips were thinned, before smoothing out.

“I’m sorry, what?” Tony asked, sure that he was hallucinating. “Did you just ask what I think you asked?” He turned towards Peter with a look of shock, pointing towards Matt and stage whispering. “Did he ask what I think he just asked?”

Matt turned his head in Tony’s direction, eyes wandering until Tony blinked. Then, almost like magic, they landed directly. Making eye contact without seeing. 

The look in his eyes was mesmerizing. Lost in a sea of emotions and thoughts, unsure of what to do. Determination to figure out what was going on. Surety, as if he knew exactly what he needed to do. Apprehension, worried that he was going to make a mistake. 

“You heard me,” he said, and surety won the battle of emotions. He licked his lips and swallowed. “Kiss me.”

Peter’s eyes widened as he looked in between the two, calculations running through his mind at rapid speeds. Tony felt his face burn, fingers twitching at his sides. The idea of kissing Matt somehow felt disturbingly right, and the thought that that’s what was supposed to happen was kind of startling. Almost more so than the man’s proclamation. 

“Actually…” Peter started, forehead wrinkling as he brought a hand to cover his mouth. His eyes bounced from place to place, looking at the floor. “It’s not a bad idea, all things considered.” When he looked back up, he moved his hand barely off of his face, opening his palm as if he were holding a crystal ball. 

Matt nodded and inhaled deeply through his nose as if he were steeling himself for the oncoming position he suggested. “If it doesn’t work, then we’ll just move to other things. From the sounds of it, it’s nothing we haven’t done before.”

Tony couldn’t believe he was the only person in the room to find something inherently wrong with the suggestion. “So, are we just going to Sleeping Beauty this? Snow White? Hope that a true love’s kiss will break the spell? Because last I checked, that’s bullshit.”

“Yeah, especially considering that, you know, requires us to  _ actually  _ be in love,” Matt retorted with an eye roll. 

Which.

Was fair.

“Still, I’m not feeling too hot about this plan. Not because I don’t want to kiss you or anything, but it just… doesn’t seem right.”

It was Peter’s turn to smirk, one of the first happy emotions that crossed his face ever since he woke up. “So you admit that you want to kiss him?”

Tony’s shoulders bunched up to his ears as if he were a bird and somebody ruffled his feathers. “I didn’t say tha-- ah, fuck it. You’ve been hanging out with those lawyers at your job too much.”

Matt looked confused for a second before twitching his lips.

  
And then Tony realized.

“Oh.  _ Oh.  _ You know what?” He asked rhetorically, squinting and shaking his pointer finger towards Matt. “You make _ so much more sense _ now that I know your occupation.”

The man in question simply shrugged, body language practically screaming ‘guilty as charged.’ Then he turned towards the general direction of Peter, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees and his chin in his hands. “Now that Tony’s mentioned it, he’s right. I can’t really explain it, but… it feels wrong, yet right at the same time.” He closed his eyes and brought both of his pointer fingers forward so that they were pushing against his lips and nose. “It… do you think we have to jumpstart our minds?”

Peter’s faced morphed into one of mild disgust. “What, like, shock it? Electroshock therapy to help you out?” He gave a full body shiver. “That doesn’t bode well with me.”   
  


Tony rolled his eyes and walked over to where Peter was standing, clapping him on the back. “No, doofus. He means recreating whatever scene to help give that final push.” He looked towards Matt, whose face screamed contemplative yet somehow serene. 

Quite the enigma, this guy.

“The memories are right there, Pete. Touching our fingertips, yet always too far to reach and grab. What if we overloaded the system and pushed ourselves into it?” 

Silence greeted his words as every member debated. 

Logically, it made sense. If one small thing had pushed them into feeling a certain way, then what if they added something else? If a scent brought back memories, then what would happen if that smell was coupled with a feeling? Would they stack on top of each other, or remain the same?

Peter felt the thin veil of hope try to coat his vision, and then reminded himself that hope was a dangerous thing. It only made things worse in the long run, led to despair. So with a metaphorical hand he squashed the feeling, burying it down under where he couldn’t reach it.

Tony was the next to speak. “I’m down to try it if you are. But there’s only one problem. We don’t exactly remember anything that may help us with remembering what to do.” 

Matt squished his face, never opening his sightless eyes. “What if…” He turned his head completely to the side, with his hands still resting on his chin. His neck popped with the motion and Tony idly wondered how they both got so crunchy. 

And then remembered that they both were heroes.

“What feels right to you?” Matt asked, eyelashes fluttering open. His eyes slid to the area around Tony’s feet, head still down. “What recently has brought up the weird feelings?”

For the second time, Tony felt his face flush. Something about the question felt extremely personal yet he couldn’t pin what. Maybe it was revealing the unknown. 

“Um,” he started eloquently. “Well, when it rains? I have an indescribable urge to just run outside and get completely soaked. Don’t know if that’s just because I’m secretly turning into a dog or something, though.” He coughed and rubbed his nose, trying to conceal the awkwardness that he was feeling.

Peter squinted.

“And, I guess, putting gloves on? I don’t know how to describe it but when I put on my work gloves before welding, I just… it feels different. Right. And I’m not positive if I can just chalk it up to me finally practicing safety in the workplace or not.” Tony shrugged, while Matt gave him a gesture to continue.

The teen remained oddly quiet, each sentence making his face turn and twist to look like someone punched him in the nose. His posture shifted so that one arm was wrapped around his middle while his other elbow rested on top of it, pointer finger slightly raised against the rest that curled into a lazy ‘c’. Since his lips were pursed and sticking out, he effectively managed to frame that part of his face, pointer above his top lip while the rest was on the dip of his chin. His lower half was in a power pose, legs spread like the bottom half of a star.

“There’s a ton of other things, but those two are the ones that stick out the most,” Tony concluded, biting his lips and releasing them quickly to let out a  _ pop!  _ He looked towards Matt, who remained on the couch, and made a waving gesture towards him. “What about you? Do you have anything?”

Matt righted his head so that it was no longer slouched to the side, eyes moving to above Tony’s head. A sigh came from his lips before he spoke. “The rain;, that’s the same for me. Especially when I take my… my helmet off. Just to ‘see’ the world better. To watch as every surface is painted in rain, making everything easier to picture.”

Peter’s eyes widened and he hopped up and down, ripping his hands away to flutter them in a bad impersonation of a butterfly. “Oh! Oh my God! I know what you guys have to do!”

Both men turned to him quizzically, each with thoughts that were similar in wondering what the fuck Peter was doing. Spinach, from under the coffee table, startled and ran to Peter’s room.

A large smile stretched across his face. 

“You guys gotta kiss  _ in the rain.” _

… He received two very unimpressed looks, one strangely more effective than the other.

Peter stopped hopping, rolling his eyes and practically deflating. “Ugh, do I have to explain everything?” he asked dramatically, moving to Matt’s bedroom.

“Not everything, just that,” Tony called out, making an incredulous face and hoping that it wasn’t lost on Matt. Judging by the little smile he got in reply, it somehow made itself known.

When the teen emerged again, he was holding the Daredevil armor. Matt lost the small bit of joy on his face in an instant, jumping up and crossing the room with a speed that really shouldn’t have been possible for a man with his injuries. “Peter, what do you think you’re doing?” he hissed, grabbing the horned helmet from the top of the pile and cradling it to his chest. 

“Getting everything ready!” he replied in faux chipper tone, digging around before producing an extra pair of gloves from the suit. The sight of them made Tony’s head spin for a painful second, the feeling coming and going in a single breath.

“Do you not realize what time it is? Even if we were to go through with this, we would have to wait until it started raining again! While it’s dark outside!” Matt argued, snatching the gloves and putting them on top of the suit, taking the entire thing and going back to his room, presumably to put it back where it belonged.

Peter wilted for a fraction of a second before perking up once more. “Okay, that’s fine! Why don’t we just check the weather app to see the next time it’s going to rain!” With deft fingers he whipped out his phone, tapping a few things before abruptly stopping. 

Instantly Tony could tell that it wasn’t going to be good news. From the look that Matt was sporting when he walked back into the room, he already somehow knew.

“It’s not expected to rain for at least another week,” Peter said glumly, losing all of his fake cheer in just a few words. Matt nodded, looking downcast.

“The days worth of rain a few weeks ago was a mystery. I don’t think we’re going to get a chance like that again any time soon.” 

Tony closed his eyes, feeling the beginning of a migraine start to pound into his skull. The caffeine was finally catching up to him, it seemed. He rubbed his hands all over his face before speaking again, words coming out muffled through his palms. “Alright, it’s fine. This is fine. This gives us a week to try out everything else to see if something jogs our memories. Kissing is the biggest thing we could do, right? Well let’s try small things.” 

Matt crossed his arms over his chest before nodding along. “He’s right, Peter. This gives us ample time to compile a list of things that drag something in our minds. It also gives us time to… look for Leonard again, just in case.”

Peter looked between the two, before sighing and accepting reality as it was. “Alright, cool. I’ll just…” he pointed to the window, and then the stairs that lead outside. “Keep myself occupied for a bit.” The last words came out with a strained smile, and he went to his room and closed the door. A few minutes later, he emerged, fully suited up. 

“I’m sorry, Peter,” Tony said in lieu of anything else. He knew that he couldn’t say the words that Peter wanted to hear. Needed to hear.

“It’s not your fault,” the teen assured him before turning towards Matt. “Tell Foggy and Karen I said hi, yeah?” 

And with that, he was gone. Matt closed his eyes as if his absence physically pained him. In a way, Tony felt the same. As much as Peter needed them so that he could keep himself sane, the two of them needed him to be their anchor in the confusing world they’d been trodding in.

“That kid has gone through too much,” Matt declared in a somber tone. Tony let out a hum in agreement. 

A few seconds later and Matt shook his head, gesturing to his room. “I have to get ready for work. You’re more than welcome to stay if you want, but I don’t think it’s best that we are seen in public. May draw unwanted attention.”

Something shot through Tony at his words. A longing for something that they may have had. A sense of loneliness, of rejection. It weighed on his soul and caused every breath to struggle to get in and out. Yet he masked the feeling with a smile and a nod. “No- yeah, you’re right. Plus, I need to catch up on my sleeping schedule. Might as well try to start now while we have time to kill, right?”

He was met with a wry smile, and it occurred to him that Matt hadn’t slept that night, either. 

“Take care, Tony.”

“Yeah, yeah, see you soon, I guess.”

Tony awkwardly waved in his direction before shuffling out the door, Matt listening to him depart down the street before getting on with his day.

_____

A few days later, nothing had changed.

Tony and Matt had met up countless times, talking about whatever newest thing jogged their memories. 

It started with small things, like red glasses and the nanites of the Iron Man armor. And then it stretched to bigger things, like darkness and the smell of sweat and blueberries. Working out and fighting. Dumpsters and fur.

Everything was convoluted, yet painted a picture that both of them could see. 

It only took a little bit of decryption for them to realize that they must’ve been together at the gym Matt worked out at. So one night after Matt somehow meditated away his pain-- which Tony was absolutely gobsmacked at-- they got together and walked all the way to Fogwell’s.

They started at opposite sides of the gym, and when they realized that it wasn’t doing anything, they tried working together. That, at least, had some feelings stirring up.

And then Tony challenged Matt and was met with a devilish grin that sent his heart pounding.

So they sparred and he lost horribly, but did so with a smile. It had been weeks-- probably months, honestly-- since Tony laughed that hard. From the glee that stayed on Matt’s face as he blended into the shadows, only to come out and knock Tony on his ass, he felt the same way.

Yet, eventually they had to stop and leave, a suspicious, pounding headache plaguing both of them. Tony had to lead Matt more than usual, the man claiming that his ‘radar sense’ was on the fritz and he couldn’t focus enough to actually see. Which was no problem, because it gave Tony an excuse to touch him, even if it was just to guide his hand to the crook of his elbow.

They passed an alleyway and they both had to pause and catch their breath-- something about the smell and sight feeling like it was bringing a metaphorical sledgehammer and thrashing it against their heads with little remorse. 

The entire night only showed them that they were on the right path. 

Yet no matter what they did-- reintroducing Tony to Karen and Foggy, gathering all of the kittens together and having a playdate, even going out as Iron Man and Daredevil at night-- they couldn’t get past the excruciating headaches to unlock whatever it was that was on the other side.

Peter had tried to be supportive of the two, but he spent most of his time away from the house, either running off as Spiderman, taking freelance pictures, or just going to the office at hours that he knew Matt wouldn’t be there. 

And Tony and Matt understood-- they really did. It was hard to see them go through this all over again, scrambling to find a cure for something that he had deemed to be incurable. So they gave him his space, never prodding or forcing him to hang out with them. 

When the duo hung out at night, Peter spent the night at either Foggy or Karen’s. Most of the time all three of them hung out somewhere-- the two adults lazily drinking as they all vented about their problems. From the sidelines, it seemed almost tranquil. Like the break was doing more good than harm towards the teen.

So they continued to meet up and compare notes before popping some Excedrin (which Matt refused, so really it was only Tony) and running off to do whatever new thing picked at their minds.

_____

“I don’t think this is going to work out.”

It was late at night and Matt was in his Daredevil gear. He was slouched on top of the lip of a bodega building in Hell’s Kitchen, new injuries from the organized crime bust sending fiery tendrils up his legs. Luckily, he had only sprained his ankle after one goon got a lucky hit in while he was mid flip. 

He had heard the distinct whine of the Iron Man armor cutting through the sky long before Tony reached the Kitchen, landing a ways away from the recovering devil. Of course, before there had been any formal greetings, Tony had led with the classic break-up sentence. A notion that was both in terms of funniness seeing that they weren’t in a relationship and jarring.

At the metallic note in his voice, Matt smiled. It had been a while since he heard the different pitch, and he had to admit that it was rather enchanting to compare.

“And why is that?” Matt answered, Daredevil gravel in place. He felt the corner of his mouth twitch a little higher as the near silent heart beat behind him fluttered before calming down once more.

That was another thing that was rather intriguing to think about. With the quiet hum of the arc reactor coupled with the sounds of the nanites working together to blend and form a barrier around Tony and the rest of the world, the deep staccato of his heart was nearly drowned out. 

He went to turn around to give the impression of looking at the armor, but found that he lacked the energy to even do that. Maybe he was more drained than he thought.

Tony’s steps were quiet, probably completely silent to the regular person. Which was damn impressive considering everything. Yet Matt tracked them until they stopped right behind him, a metallic sigh showing that he was done moving. “FRI, categorize his injuries.”

“I don’t think you--”

“Daredevil currently has a fractured ankle and three bruised ribs, along with a sprained wrist and shoulder that are close to getting out of their sockets. There are multiple contusions across his chest and thighs, as well as areas of bruising in varying stages of healing.”

Everything that Matt had already known. At least he hadn’t accidentally missed anything. He rolled his eyes and pouted, feeling the disapproving gaze through the Iron Man helmet. “I was trying to say that I don’t think you want to know all of my injuries. They’re not bad, anyway. Nothing a day or two can’t heal.”

Tony spluttered indignantly, helmet dissolving away to reveal his face. “You’re incorrigible, you know that Mr. Murdock?”

“So I’ve heard,” Matt replies, waving to the space next to him to signal Tony to sit next to him. When the man made no motion forwards, Matt found himself sighing and mentally preparing himself for turn around and shoot him a look that hopefully read through his mask as questioning.

“Do you think we’ll ever get our memories back?” Tony asked in a quiet voice, sounding vulnerable. Bare and open for the world to witness. The tone was enough to let Matt momentarily set aside his injuries, getting up and turning around all while applying minimal pressure on his ankle. 

His attentiveness was the right move, apparently. Tony sighed and brought his hand up to the warmth in the middle of his chest, tapping the upside down triangle twice with his pointer and middle finger. Less than a second later the suit began dissolving into the housing device. Matt listened to the sounds with curiosity and awe.

“I think it’s possible,” he offered after Tony was armor-free, now only in a business suit that he had to wear for work. Minus the jacket. So, really, casual formal wear.

He took a step off of the lip of the building, grinding his teeth as his ankle screamed in protest. But the pressure didn’t deter him from taking a few more steps closer towards Tony, stopping when there was about a foot in between them. “Do you think we should stop trying?”

Tony’s heart skipped before returning to a regular rhythm, albeit slightly quicker than before. He swallowed, and then shifted his head side to side. “I just think that we’re spending too much time trying to get something back that we could easily recreate.” A pause, then, “I mean, if you even wanted to.”

Matt considered.

On one hand, Tony was right. If they really were meant to be in a relationship, then they were wasting time trying to get back what they had. But at the same time, what if they were missing something else? A detail that they knew beforehand. Something that didn’t involve their potential relationship. A different fact that they learned during the week.

Plus, either way, Peter would be able to hang out with them again without feeling like a failure.

(Really, less of one.)

“I think,” Matt started, licking his lips, “That we should continue trying, but put it on the back burner. We have more things to focus on, right? What if--”

His words were cut off by a pair of lips on his own.

Belatedly, he realized they were Tony’s.

Matt’s brain short circuited and then turned fuzzy in the span of two seconds before he kissed back. But he was left chasing after Tony as the man pulled back, shame flying through the air and mixing with his natural smells.

A few seconds of breathing, before Tony awkwardly smiled. “I probably should’ve asked first. But that was the last thing that we needed to try, and obviously it didn’t work, so--”

Matt ripped off his helmet and bit the pads of his gloves to throw them off, surging forward with such ferocity that he nearly stumbled. This time when their lips connected, Tony let out a small squeak before kissing back.

The last kiss was small. Shallow. Scared. Born of hastiness and bred through other intentions. This one, however. This one felt like the devil clawing through each of their frames, uniting them together once more. Matt’s hands were burning with the desire to touch every part of the man in front of him, map out every scar and freckle. Claim what was his. 

Tony’s hands were in his hair, on his hip. Grabbing and massaging, pushing closer while trying-- and failing-- to seem modest about the want, the  _ need _ , that cycled around them. 

Matt tilted his head to get better access and nearly let out a sound a little less than dignified as the hand in his hair turned into claws, scraping and pulling gently enough for his enhanced senses to deem pleasurable.

They stayed on the rooftop, tangled in each other's embrace for an indeterminate amount of time. Reveling in the feeling of being together, of feeling like the mist that had clouded them had finally cleared, even just a little bit. 

When they separated, they didn’t stray far. Matt still had his arms wrapped around Tony’s shoulders in a loose embrace while Tony had his hands on his hips. Breathing in the same air. Sharing the same body heat.

“Wow,” Tony got out breathlessly. Matt felt a smile break through, a chuckle accompanying. He leaned forward and placed his forehead on Tony’s shoulder, fluttering his eyes closed. “If I knew that kissing you would’ve felt like  _ that _ , I wouldn’t have argued against it the first day.”

Matt opened his mouth to retaliate, abruptly gasping as a sharp, needle-like feeling pierced through his skull, a hand shooting to cover his head. Tony staggered back, yelling out a curse.

Fire unlike anything he’d ever felt before ricocheted through the walls of his mind, burning any and everything that it could get in its grasp. Thousands of bullets shot through, overwhelming every single one of his senses. Matt may have screamed; he couldn’t hear. 

Flashes of images flew through his broken eyes, senses that formed pictures mixing and blending together to make an imperfect time period. The smell of sweat, the feeling of a hand clasped in his, the sound of mechanical whirring, the taste of blueberries. 

Everything came rushing in like a tidal wave and Matt was swept away in the sea. Stranded and alone as his reality merged with his memories and rendered him sightless once more. His radar sense was freaking the fuck out. He didn’t know if he was walking anymore, if he was close to the edge of the building.

And just like how the feeling came, it left. Not with a bang, but with a whisper. Instantly he was snapped back into the present, ears ringing with the illusion of something loud going off around him rather than the pang going through his brain. 

He was breathing heavily, shaking his head. Trying to pinpoint enough things to ground him. A pinch to his hand to let him feel something, get the sensation back into familiarity rather than a ghost of touches that he could  _ finally  _ remember. A whiff of the dumpster in the alleyway next to the roof he was on, an unpleasant smell but ultimately effective in getting him to pick out almost every scent in the small space. A couple fighting three streets over. The woman doesn’t want her Aunt visiting, the man wants to thank her for the gifts she sent. The taste of saliva in his mouth, a reminder of the moments him and Tony--

Tony.

Matt lowered his hands from his hair, moving slow as like he was a large predator trying not to startle potential prey. Now with his senses in general working condition, focusing on the man felt borderline natural.

His heart rate was elevated and his hands were shaking, eyelashes creating fluttery noises with each quick blink. Air whizzed in and out of his chest in rapid succession, lungs barely full before being deprived once more. Shuffling of his rumpled clothes; was he shaking?

Just like Matt, Tony had his hands cradling his head. And as it had for him, the sensation faded away. It was obvious to Matt exactly when. From the way his heart skipped, breath hitching and eyes widening, before he turned his head. Probably looking at him.

“What the hell?” Matt got out with a wheeze, voice sounding like it had been thrown through a meat grinder beforehand. 

Tony, mouth open, just nodded slowly. The hands that held his head lowered to his chest, one gripping his shirt to the left of the arc reactor. “I’m sorry,” he started, sounding as out of breath as Matt felt, “But did you-- did? Do? That? Go through that?”

Words were beyond the billionaire as he walked closer on wobbly legs, taking the time to process the onslaught of memories that were finally unlocked. Matt took a step and winced, forgetting about his injured ankle. Nevertheless he met him half way, pride and fuzziness and elation and every single happy emotion that was usually stunted growing through his soul and forcing a brilliant smile on his face. 

“ _ Tony _ .”

Matt raised a shaky hand towards Tony’s face, gently touching the curve of his jaw. Then, moving to cup his cheek. The man leaned into the embrace slightly, breath stopping. 

And then they were together again, Tony’s eyelashes creating little waves of vibrations as they closed and rested on his bottom lashes. 

This kiss was slow and passionate, conveying every emotion between them. It started with the hand on face, then grew as Tony brought his to hold the back of Matt’s neck, keeping him in place and deepening it. Making it memorable. Because there was no more forgetting each other. No forgetting feelings, sensations, memories. 

Matt smiled and felt a tear slide down his cheek. 

Peter was wrong. They’d  _ won. _

_ _____ _

  
  


They arrived at Matt’s place giggling like two drunk teenagers in love.

The entire way back was a hassle, neither wanting to be apart for longer than a few seconds. It made Matt’s parkouring hard and Tony’s expert flying to...

Well.

Be a little less than expert.

It took entirely too long for the trip back, filled with laughs and smiles and even a few rooftop kisses. 

“I missed you,” Tony told him once they both arrived on Matt’s building.

“You’re clingy,” Matt fired back with no real heat, taking off his glove and grabbing Tony’s hand to drag him inside.

The apartment was cold, a welcome feeling on their skin after being out in the suits for so long. Spinach and Nugget were asleep on the couch, curled up in two little balls. Tony cooed at the sight. Matt just snorted in response. 

Tony tapped his arc reactor twice and de-suited while Matt went to take the rest of the armor off and put it in its proper place. They were both smelly and needed showers, Tony volunteering to take the second one. 

He made a joke about conserving water and taking a shower together.

Matt threw a towel at his face.

Roughly forty minutes later had the duo fresh and clean once more, Tony wearing Matt’s clothes and smelling like his body wash, much to Matt’s pleasure. They were laughing about a conversation they’d forgotten about when Peter slunk through the rooftop access, ripping off his mask.

“Hey, guys!” he shouted, taking the steps two at a time. Both men halted their conversation to give their greetings towards the teen, Matt tacking on the question of why he sounded so happy.

Peter scoffed at him, rolling his eyes towards Tony. “What, am I not allowed to be happy?” After the two deadpan looks he received, he sighed dramatically. “Alright, well if you insist,” he said the last two words lower, each drawn out.

He stretched his arms languidly before popping his back, letting out a satisfying noise. Then he slapped the spider insignia in the middle of his chest, letting the suit deflate around him to reveal black under armor that Matt used to wear. “So I may have gone out and caught Leonard.”

The words were thrown out so casually that it gave Matt and Tony a pause, seconds ticking by before it hit. And when it did, they both whipped to face each other, and then towards Peter once more. 

“Excuse me--” Matt started.

“--What the fuck?” Tony finished, oddly in sync. They looked at each other again (read: turned in each others direction) before getting up and surrounding Peter. 

Matt kinda hobbled over, actually, but Tony wasn’t judging the details.

The teen shrugged nonchalantly, a crooked smile on his face. “Yeah, no biggie. Found his new hideout in Upstate and figured that I’d crash it. Made sure that he couldn’t zap me with anything or leak magic gas anywhere. Also!” He bent down to fling the suit completely off, rummaging around to find the secret pocket. When he found it, he let out a satisfied squeal and plucked a piece of paper out. On it were chemical equations, each hastily drawn. “I have the cure!”

The happiness was palpable through his voice. Through each large breath, every head turn that went between the two. 

Matt bit his lips and Tony looked to the side, scratching the back of his head and bringing his other hand to rest on his hip.

Peter’s smile slowly dropped.

Then, a gasp. “ _ You guys--” _

Tony burst out laughing, startling Matt next to him. Peter brought up a finger to point between both of them, wagging it every which way. “You mean I didn’t have to go out and find this?!” he spluttered, anger being ruined by the laughter that ran through his being. 

“Don’t get me wrong, Pete. It’s good that you finally caught that bastard!” Tony said in between breaths, tipping his head back and then doubling over, a wheeze coming from the depths of his soul and sounding strangely like a demon. At the noise, Matt finally lost it, shaking his head before tipping it back in the same motion. He clapped his hands and then brought the heel of his palms to push on his eyes.

Peter rolled his eyes good naturedly, bending over to pick up his suit. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know.” He dismissed the comment with a wave of his hand, trodding off to his room. “I’m just glad that everything is back to normal.” 

Tony came back up and looped an arm around Matt’s waist, laughing and looking at him as if he had hung the moon and stars. Matt turned towards him with his perfect smile, and Tony realized he was a goner when it came to this man.

“Yeah, me too,” he said quietly, warmth clogging his veins. He leaned over and kissed Matt, feeling another wave as the man kissed back, all the while laughing.

Things were fine. They were fine; better than fine. Everything was as it should be.

“I’m ready to sleep for a century, wake up and eat some frijoles, and then go slip back into a coma.”

The two kittens on the couch were startled awake yet again as Matt and Tony burst into laughter, followed by a high pitched “Oh shit!” as Matt’s ankle finally gave out on him and they both tumbled to the ground.

Tony groaned as he took on Matt’s weight, pushing the man off with more effort than one would’ve imagined for a superhero. They both lay there panting and staring at the ceiling, hands coming together and intertwining in the space left between them. 

The floor was cold on their backs, but they were too high off of emotions to notice or care. Happiness, relief,  _ love.  _ The feelings coursed through their skin and bled through their pores, giving the weight to the air around them and filling it with warmth. 

Matt turned towards Tony, taking him in. From the huge smile that painted shades of soft blues and yellows, reminding him of a sunrise that had been buried over years of blindness. All the way down to the breathlessness that came after a fit of laughter.

And when Tony turned his head to look at Matt, his smile felt like new beginnings. A promise for a future together. A hope for more.

Matt felt the corners of his eyes crinkle as he let out a breath through his nose, smile large and unbridled. 

“No more forgetting each other, okay?”

Tony scoffed playfully, squeezing his hand.

“I couldn’t forget you, even if I wanted to.” 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, first of all
> 
> don't bully me for the last line I thought it was an adorable way to end the story, I'm a fragile goblin who is a hoe for mushy endings
> 
> Second, wow!! I can't believe we're done!! :D It feels like I've been going in loops in this story! They forget, they remember, they forget-- but it's all done! No more memory problems!
> 
> (At least until they're old and senile and all of their past injuries come to beat them in the head with a baseball bat.)
> 
> I'd like to give out a special thank you to the people in my server for suggesting this story in the first place, as well as developing it enough so that I had a vision for what to do in the beginning. I hadn't really thought of this pair as anything serious until you guys shared some of those ideas with me. Seriously, you guys are lil devils but I'm glad that this came out from it.
> 
> I? Thought it would be cool to put some images collected throughout the writing of this story in a folder on my Google Drive? Not my main gmail, of course, but my writing one that I use for stories. In it features the pictures of the cats, some screenshots of theories, and mood boards for each chapter created by one of the biggest supporters of this story, Vale! A humongous thank you to them for all of the support and my very first fan-art dedicated to my story! <3 <3 <3
> 
> https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/136HVUAxNRGmd5ZKxayd5u7b31mSPcUKe?usp=sharing
> 
> I'm planning on taking a little bit of a break from writing (aka spending a little bit of time sitting and thinking of a new character development for Peter, Matt, or Tony) before I start writing my next story, which will!! be decided on between the people in my server!! 
> 
> There are currently nine unfinished stories in my Google Docs just begging to be picked up and written. All vary in quality, because some times you just write shit, yknow? I'll be sending out paragraphs out of each and picking the more popular one. If you're interested in it, come join my server! :D
> 
> https://discord.gg/fXBC3aD
> 
> And that's it for now! Thank you guys so much for reading, commenting, and leaving kudos! Until next time! <3 <3 <3

**Author's Note:**

> What did you guys think? I’d love to hear a response! 
> 
> Come join my discord! :) <3
> 
> https://discord.gg/8zbHpHS


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